


At the End of Winter

by Christina_Potter_09



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Cousins, Death, F/M, Family, Future Generation, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jonsa children, Jonsa endgame, Jonsa feels, Love, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Pol!Jon, Post Season 8, Post-War, Slow Burn, Torture, War Crimes, jonsa, jonsa starklings, mention of rape, pol!sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2020-02-10 11:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 110,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina_Potter_09/pseuds/Christina_Potter_09
Summary: My name is Aryana of House Stark, First of my Name, The Promised Child, the Dragonwolf, the Summerborn, Lady of Winterfell, the Auburn Queen and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. And this is the story of my parents, Queen Sansa of House Stark and King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name -once known as Jon Snow-.~‘Who manipulated whom?’The memory of Daenerys’ honest question shook Sansa to the core as she remained to look at Jon with eyes wide, unable to say a word as the realisation washed over her. In a twisted way, she felt proud of him finally for listening to her, otherwise they’d have been under the Night King and all this wouldn’t matter. Both the Queen in the North and the Dragon Queen had their suspicions of what the Crow King was doing, yet both had been right, and both had been wrong.Crows lie, the thought had her cry out in anger.Following Season 8 and fixing EVERYTHING for the Queen in the North!





	1. Into the Crypt

At the End of Winter

 

Chapter One  - Into the Crypt

 

_My name is Aryana of House Stark, First of my Name, The Promised Child, the Dragonwolf, the Summerborn, Lady of Winterfell, the Auburn Queen and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. And this is the story of my parents, Queen Sansa of House Stark and King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name -once known as Jon Snow-._

The words and titles repeated into her head as the young queen walked inside the crypt, passing by the candlelit tombs, her ancestors, both from her mother’s and her father’s side looking upon her silently. Tears gathered in her eyes as she moved further down the crypt, flowers in her hands, Ghost at her dress tail, massive and in pace with her even if age had caught up with the direwolf, soon she’d be losing him too, the only thing still connecting her with her parents and the House Stark. She reached her mother’s tomb and stood for a moment of silence. This would be the next-to-last statue in the crypt, her aunt Arya -of whom she had been named after, along her grandmother Lyana- would be the last Stark buried there.

The newest of the statues, representing the most beautiful couldn’t possibly do her mother justice but Aryana knew the artists had done their best. Sansa Stark’s statue stood tall and delicate, a sober expression on the face, both hands outstretched, one holding a dragon and a wolf, signaling the unique connection she had with her cousin and husband, Aegon, the other remained empty, outstretched as to pull whoever needed help onto their feet, like she always did for the North and later for the rest of the Kingdoms, like Aryana was now called to do as well.

Her father had been buried at King’s Landing, along the rest of the Targaryens, -to his dismay- Aryana knew, her mother in Winterfell, where she fully belonged as the Eternal Lady Stark. It had been politics, where the people needed their most beloved ruler, along the rest of their bloodline. Aryana fought the first sob, separating her parents in death had been the first and hardest choice she had to take as newly reigning queen, but it had been a choice made by her parents themselves. Aegon had to be at King’s Landing, no matter how much he loved the North, and her mother had reassured her on her deathbed that it was just their bodies, they’d always be together in the afterlife.

‘I miss you,’ Aryana whispered as she set the winter flowers and red roses at the feet of the statue. At the sound of the young queen’s deep feminine voice -inherited by her mother- Ghost gave a tiny whine as he lowered his head close to the child he protected ever since she was inside her mother’s womb. Aryana sighed close to the wolf’s fur, his scent so familiar, she ran her hands against the fine fabrics of her dress, the fur on her shoulders once belonged to her mother, it still smelled of her.

‘Summer is here,’ Aryana looked up at the serene face of the statue. ‘I promise to write down your story, so people can know, people can understand. You and father made sure to leave a kingdom at peace for me and Robb. We intend to to keep it that way through his kindness and your strategy. I promise to be a good queen to our people, just and good.’ Aryana promised quietly and finally raised her hand to touch Ghost who leaned into her touch, she smiled bravely at the beast, symbol of half her bloodline.  

Her mother had died a few days after her father a year ago, unable to cope without him, both of old age, the wars fought and won had left them fragile at the end but they had been content, two children, one King and one Queen, Seven Kingdoms under One House, peacefully coexisting at last after years of rebuilding and harmonizing every kingdom, tribe, houseand old hostility, under the rule of Aryana Stark.

‘Are you ready, my sweetling?’ her aunt’s voice snapped Aryana out of her sorrowful thoughts and memories of her parents’ death. She turned around and looked at her favorite aunt, the Summer Bringer, her aunt Arya. ‘I miss her too, you know,’ the older woman admitted softly and Aryana nodded, knowing it was hard for her aunt to speak her feelings. Arya had grown to be a powerful woman, by her family’s side while ruling the Seven Kingdoms, the Nightslayer, she had been given the utmost respect for slaying the Night King.

Aryana nodded and approached her aunt, taking her hand as the two women, one in the regal dress with colors of the Targaryen and Stark houses, and the other in her leather breeches, vest and furs, started moving out of the crypt with Ghost behind them.

'Your brother and cousins await,' Arya stated simply and Aryana nodded. 

‘I want to write their story,’ Aryana said as they passed Lyana’s tomb, Arya nodded her head.

‘Where do you want to begin?’ Arya asked and Aryana sighed.

‘The moment their love blossomed, at the End of Winter.’ the queen explained and Arya nodded her head.

‘Good, I’m not sitting through the tales of the Winter, I fought to leave them behind, bloody times,’ Arya pointed out, making -for the first time in days- her niece and queen laugh. ‘Good,’ she only repeated, glancing at the younger woman with a smile on her face.


	2. Jenny of Oldstones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed slightly the first chapter so please before reading this, read chap one if you had read it when I first posted on the 30th of April. This will be fix-it fic considering all 8 seasons of GoT and it will be jonsa filled so please be warned, more warnings will go up soon as rape, abuse and mental issues will arise.  
> thank you and I hope you enjoy

_ Chapter Two - Jenny of Oldstones _

 

Queen Sansa smiled kindly at the people around her, Northern Lords and Ladies as she approached the simple throne that belonged to her. People cheered for her, bells rang even after nightfall for her, swords drowned and smiles etched on highborn and lowborn people's faces alike. She was the queen she had hoped to be, loved instead of feared, kind instead of a tyrant. 

The young queen reached her throne, there was a table set before her, advisors she gained in the past year of ruling, her first year. The lone she wolf raised her cup of mead and smiled at the people around her who quieted down for her to speak. 

‘My Lords, Ladies, my people,’ Sansa started as she looked at familiar faces, her voice strong and confident. ‘One year of Independence, for the North that knows no fear, for the North that has been independent for thousands of years.’ The people in the Great Hall cheered and shouted happily at her words. ‘We faced the Night and survived, we’re at the end of Winter and we endure, liberated and strong.’ she went on and many happy “aye”s were heard, excitement spreading around the people. ‘The North remembers the fallen, the North remembers the sacrificed,’ Sansa held her voice steady as the images of Theon’s and Lyana’s dead bodies came back to her mind, still to fresh to be eroded.  ‘The North remembers the ones who stood tall and the ones who failed to do so,’ Sansa added, trying to keep bitterness from her voice. ‘The North Remembers!’ she finally called out for everyone to join her and they did happily as they repeated with booming voices. 

‘THE NORTH REMEMBERS!’ 

The feast started as she drank from her cup and smiled at everyone who did the same. Many cheered for her, eyes set upon her, looking adoringly as she was the one who guaranteed the North’s freedom, even from the familiar yet so different Stark, King Bran the Broken. 

‘To Queen Sansa! May long she reigns!’ Many toasted towards her and drank hungrily from their own goblets. She raised her cup to them with a smile before she sipped too. The music started and the food was shared and happily distributed around the table, filling the Great Hall with familiar smells of roasted meat and winter herbs. Happy chatter and laughing engulfed the place as Sansa sat back on her chair and looked around her, observing her work. 

Everyone was happy, the reconstruction of Winterfell needed a few more months, it would be done by the first break of Spring as she guessed of the weather’s change and her technicians’ pace. Maester Wolkan had kept her updated on all the details of the reconstruction, the wise man currently sitting by her side, drinking moderately. He had been the Bolton’s Maester but Sansa had trusted him as he was the one who gave her healing herbs and mixtures for the wounds Ramsay inflicted on her body. Sansa had trusted the man and she had been right to do so, he had proven himself trustworthy. Sansa had a gift for uniting all the worthy. However, why she had been left alone, without her siblings and her friends, was beyond her. 

_ ‘The Lone wolf dies, but the Pack Survives.’  _ her own words came in her mind, at the very same castle’s battlements, where she had stood with Arya after their execution of Littlefinger. Sansa sighed as she looked around her, her familiar people, yet none of her family. All northern people sworn loyal to the death for her, yet no one close to her hardened heart.

Arya, Arya believed her to be smart, smarter than everyone else, she once had told her briskly, yet her eyes had burnt with sisterly love. Arya was away, exploring a world full of similar patterns, exploring West of Westeros, where Sansa was sure her sister would find the same things, the same spites and joys, the same fears and strengths, only perhaps dressed differently. But Sansa would wait for her sister, Arya’s place was the North, she’d return one day, she was still young and unsettled, but Sansa knew, she’d meet with her sister again, even if said sister could easily stop by Storm’s End. 

Sansa wasn’t sure for how long she had been sitting there, eyes set before her full yet untouched plate, a smile plastered on her lips for her loving people who kept on making sure on her wellbeing and entertainment throughout the night. Loving their queen yet being used on her passive stance, cup forgotten before her lips, her hand frozen before her as her mind ran miles away from the North, yet her heart ached within Winterfell’s walls. 

Sansa was pulled out of her thoughts only when a tall northern Lady approached the musicians, pale skin and fire kissed hair like the young Queen’s. A very familiar tune started, making Sansa’s eyes sting with tears as she finally sipped more of her mead. 

_ High in the halls of the kings who are gone _

Sansa’s mind was filled with the images of her brother and cousin, her stomach kicking at the end of Robb’s, terrible and barbaric, and at another, very living loss, so close yet so far away from her. Their ghosts still played outside with the ghosts of young Rickon who died and young Bran who changed so much he wasn’t her baby brother anymore.

_ Jenny would dance with her ghosts _

‘There’s no justice in the world, unless we make it,’ Baelish had forced her to look at him instead of Winterfell when he told her that, forcing her to kiss him afterwards.

_ The ones she had lost and the ones she had found _

_ ‘You should be on your knees, thanking me,’ she had spoke angrily at her sister, infuriated at how ungrateful Arya had been. Littlefinger was watching somewhere close by from these familiar walls. _

_ ‘I will be the executioner.’  _ Arya had promised at the battlements but she wasn’t there.

_ And the ones who had loved her the most _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘I love the wolf bit,’ he had pointed at her dress, setting fire in her chest and dragonflies in her stomach. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ ‘Good, because I made this for you,’ she had beamed at him and he had been astonished, maybe receiving a gift for the first time in his life, let alone a gift symbolizing his family, their family.

_ ‘Thank you, Sansa,’ he had been honest and happy, probably the last time she saw him thus.  _

_ The ones who'd been gone for so very long _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Her first bleeding, mentioned and pointed out before everyone by the Queen of Westeros.  Cersei Lannister had sat at the same table, where Sansa sat now. Cersei Lannister and her many painful lessons. 

_ Lady’s strangled scream still made her stomach turn. _

_ She couldn't remember their names _

_ Joffrey’s evil smile, her first abuser, her almost first husband, strolling around Winterfell, and that stupid little girl so blind to his cruel ways. The Slow Learner, the Awful Liar. _

_ They spun her around on the damp old stones _

_ Jamie Lannister standing before her in that same Great Hall, bringing himself into the Dragon’s fire and Wolves’ jaws, unlike any other Lion would do, to fight against the Night.  _

_ Spun away all her sorrow and pain _

_ ‘Stop challenging her,’ he had half begged, half commanded her when he caught up with her in the corridor behind that very same hall after Ser Jamie’s hearing. Sansa had looked at him with defiance, tension and anger between them rising, having nothing to do with the unease that had sparked between them ever since they reunited at Castle Black. Now another awful ruler strolled around Winterfell and stood between them. _

_ ‘You bent the knee, not I,’ she had rasped out angrily, untrapping herself from between his body and the hard brick wall, choosing to ignore the devastated features of his so familiar and beloved face. He had kept her awake at nights, his face, his choices, his voice, his absence, his strategy.  _

_ ‘Who manipulated whom?’ the Dragon Queen had asked Sansa. _

_ Men do stupid things for women _

_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _

_ ‘My baby brother might be the new king but he needs protection, not everyone will be happy with a northen, crippled boy as the new king. I will be safe and sound in the North.’ Sansa’s words had almost been answered with her Shield’s protest. Sansa had risen her hand, haulting her. ‘You proved yourself time and time again, the biggest moment when you didn’t follow Ser Jamie to the South.’ she had added and Brienne had sealed her lips, embarrassment and hurt etched all over her face. ‘I talked with Bran, you will be the new Leader of the Kingsguard, you’re a knight and the best protection I could have asked for my brother. He’s also my mother’s child, see it as an extension of your Oath. The North will forever be thankful to Knight Brienne of Tarth.’ Sansa had announced the decision she had taken with her correspondent and brother. Brienne had been ready to kneel before the younger woman but instead, reached out and the two embraced in trust, love and respect only they two had shared. Brienne protecting her, her sworn shield, having taken an oath to her mother and never broke it. _

_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Her Lady Mother a foreigner in these walls, dutiful and honorable, sweet and caring, only to her own, unable to love a motherless babe. 

_ They danced through the day _

_ Sansa never wanted to leave the North. Her eyes drifted close as she remembered the final days at the South. The South she had sworn never to visit again, the South that had devoured her dear friend Margery. Yet, she had been forced to do so when she learnt the Dragon Queen was dead, by his hand and he was facing execution. She had marched with her siblings and shield and army, with hope and fear. She had returned the Queen in the North, with her army and title, to be greeted by ghosts and empty walls, memories and forgiveness ungiven.  _

_ And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall _

_ He had wrapped his arms around her when she came out of the crypt, he and Arya had opened the gates to the crypt, shocked to see the dead had infiltrated the place. Tyrion had rushed to the Dragon Queen but he had wrapped his arms around Sansa, lifting off the ground, breathing in relief against her ear, and for those few, elating moments, she had hoped they were alright. She had hoped they were still them, whatever that had meant, if they had been left at peace, the’d figure it out. _

_ From winter to summer then winter again _

_ ‘Be smarter, like you once instructed, Sansa, stop going against her,’ He had cornered her again. After the Strategy Meeting, when Sansa had insisted for the armies to rest. Arya was pushing Bran down the corridor, they’d talk at the weirwood. Sansa glanced at his hands clasping at her arms with bruising force, keeping her in place. She was done with his choices and what implicated for her every time, in her own home.  _

_ ‘Or what? I will lose my head for it?’ she had almost echoed her own words, referring to how their father and brother perished. ‘It’s not her style, Dragon Fire must be more satisfying for her to watch…’ Sansa rasped out her words, concealing her terror at her own cynical revelation. She had changed from porcelain to ivory, to steel, yet ever since the Dragon Queen came, Sansa feared she was turning to Stone. _

_ ‘I beseech you....’ he had whispered as he looked right and left, that haunted shadow in his dark eyes never leaving. Sansa had given him openings before, always trying for him, even before his return, and he had decided to root for his Queen, semi measures wouldn’t do. His own fear wouldn’t sip through her. Whatever twisted game of terrorised love he was playing, he could play it alone, she had the North he gave her to think of, to protect and care about. ‘She will be a good Queen.’ he had said again as if these words had been etched on his very tongue, thrown around when things -or rather he- got desperate and needed persuasion.  _

_ ‘Then you have nothing to fear of my safety, have you?’ Sansa had mocked him angrily. ‘How many times she implied she will burn me alive for not liking her heavenly face?’ she demanded and the desperate face a man so dear to her heart wore, settled a cold liquid within her belly and fire in her heart. More than once, the realization of it all made her even more stubborn in her cause, even more disappointed in him.  Sansa had decided to die in her try to keep the North safe from Daenerys’ dragon claws. _

_ 'Til the walls did crumble and fall _

_ A feast like that one was the last, “I believe in you.” she had told him and she had meant it despite it all, urging him to finish his drink. He had laughed and looked at her with adoration. Their last time happily coexisting around each other, even with the Dragon Queen at their back.  _

_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _

_ And Sansa had been happy, allowed herself to be, for these brief days, even after Ramsay, her second husband, the monster whose actions still pained her, literally, every time she bathed or touched her body in certain places. She had persuaded herself she wouldn’t be married of love, who could defy the notion? She had been sold around noblemen and of course one would be crazed bastard who filled her body and dreams with pain. Yet she had been happy, as she had urged him to drink that night and he smiled at her, until he had looked at his Queen and she had left, preferring the Hound’s company, any company than the treatment she received.  _

_ ‘You’ve changed, little bird.’ _

_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _

_ He was half Dragon, like his Queen and family, and half wolf, like her and the rest of his family. She had decided to damn her promise the moment Bran told her and Arya. Love kills Duty. He had to be protected, he might had been blind but the Dragon Queen was exactly like the others, only she had the means to level cities. _

_ And she did, King’s Landing, like she would do with Winterfell next. _

_ And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _

_ ‘What if there is someone else? Someone better?’ Sansa had asked and Tyrion had looked at her in wonder and concern, knowing they were opening a chasm that would never be mended. Sansa had kept the North for him and he had tossed it at the Dragon’s feet. She had urged him to be his better self and he had bent the knee to his captor, he had made her vow on something she had no idea the importance of. Sansa wouldn’t be a bystander anymore, defying the Dragon Queen by speaking up had done little, giving information to the right people would do the thing. She would move the pieces and she would become one, even if she was to burn for it.  _

_ Even if he never forgave her for it. _

_ And he hadn’t. _

_ Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave _

_ “You’re in grave danger, my Lady, she keeps talking of you. We make every effort to persuade her not to sack King’s Landing with her Dragons. I am afraid of her mental health, everyone is at risk of dying. She reminds me of her father at his final days. I’m doing my best to stop her.”  _

_ Sansa had destroyed the small scroll the moment she had finished reading it. Varys had left no name but she knew it was the queen’s Master Whisperer. Her heart kicked violently as she watched the small parchment set on fire of the candle. Her breathing heaving at the thought of him, how blind and how vulnerable he was now, would the Dragons follow his command instead of hers? Would she have them eat or burn him for the threat he posed before her claim? Would the Dragon Queen then fly North and burn her alive for what she had done? Of course she would. _

_ Sansa took away the desperate tears for a man she loved so much, a man she couldn’t even recognize anymore. She shed more for what their life had became of. She had begged him not to go South, men of her family never did well there and he had gone twice. _

_ High in the halls of the kings who are gone _

_ She moved through the destroyed city, the cloud of ash was finally thinning after days above the capital. The smell of burnt flesh of thousands lingered. Brienne was tearful on her own horse, Bran in a carriage by her other side. Sansa’s small northern army stood behind the destroyed gate, joined by the forces he had commanded. The tables were turned and now that she was in that Godforsaken place, her people were hers again, the Unsulied and Dothaki be damned, their Queen was finally killed, by him who was a prisoner of strangers in his own land, his own capital. _

_ Sansa had unmounded hastily as Arya had peered from a corner and ran to her sister. The two had collided into a hug as relief washed over both, not everything had been lost. _

_ Jenny would dance with her ghosts _

_ She had demanded of him, and she had been turned down. She had threatened with more war in her despair to save him. Sansa hated herself for still being so loyal and in love with him. _

_ Tyrion was in cuffs, this is what happened to the closest people of the Targaryen. He was talking of new policies and new kings and rulers. Her first husband had a way of getting himself saved out of anything. Sansa’s mind remained only on one king, still kept captured. His name she had refused to speak of ever since she learnt of his parentage. Who was he? Was he the man she had grew up with? The boy she had been awful to? The man who had forgave her for it? The man she met at Castle Black? The King in the North whom she did her best in her ability to guide and advice?  _

_ He wasn’t Jon anymore and he wasn’t Aegon. He was the Northern Fool and the Stranger and he had been testing her faith in the Seven for so long.  _

_ The ones she had lost and the ones she had found _

_ She had won the Independence of the North, Winterfell would always be her home. She was proud of that. If she couldn’t save Jon from his own actions, at least hers could mean something.  _

_ And the ones _

_ ‘Where will We go?’ he had corrected her and so long after that sweet moment before the fireplace, they knew their destinations. He had been doomed to be crow again, the irony ate at the new Queen’s gut like sickness. She had cried and screamed for his sentence.  _

_ Bearing a crown she never asked for, freeing her kingdom like no other Stark had achieved before her, always bending the knee or dying in their effort not to. _

_ Daenerys had been dancing with Dragons, Jon had danced with Monsters of the Night, he had given up everything for joined forces against them after all, and Sansa had been left to dance with her Ghosts as she returned alone in the North.  _

_ Who had loved her the most _

‘Your Grace, a raven arrived from your brother,’ Sansa was snapped out of her thoughts as the song ended and the Great Hall fell in contemplation before a happier tune could start. Sansa looked up at the young servant, for a moment, her mind went to Jon, brother, cousin, people were still confused between what he always was and what he was supposed to be now. There was also word of him being the King Beyond the Wall again, even if the free folk bowed to no one, they liked him. 

Sansa couldn’t blame them even if she didn’t recognize him herself. ‘King Bran, my Queen,’ the servant pointed out, possibly noticing the Queen’s confusion, everyone had more or less suspected of things as Sansa hadn’t been subtle before Jon and the Dragon Queen. Her constant sadness and loneliness that settled upon her beautiful face after she returned from the South was no secret across the North. 

‘Thank you,’ Sansa finally replied and stood, everyone stood for her and she smiled at them allowing them to continue celebrate without her, she wasn’t enjoying herself anyway. 

She reached her office and found the three-eyed raven waiting. She pushed down the unease of the bird looking at her so intensely and in spite of the worry that filled her belly, she smiled. 

‘I miss you, baby brother,’ she declared honestly as she untied the small parchment from the raven’s leg and unrolling the scroll. 

_ ‘Dear Sansa. I have found Drogon, soon people will be with you. _ ’ the scroll was simple yet its meaning made Sansa’s stomach drop, she hadn’t had the time to fully register the words as another servant burt in her quarters, heaving breaths as he looked at her. 

‘Forgive me, my Queen,’ the young boy pleaded as Sansa waited for his next words, knowing she would hate them. ‘The Leader of the Kingsguard, Ser Brienne of Tarth and the Hand of King Bran have arrived in Winterfell, they ask of you urgently.’ Sansa was on her feet before the boy could finish his words, rushing down to the yard where Brienne and Tyrion awaited for her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I wanted a full explanation of Sansa's a year after the end of Season 8 and what happened in the last episode. I see Sansa really as the Jenny of Oldstone, alone with her Ghosts in Winterfell, I tried to add everyone that had been important in good and bad ways to her and she only thinks of Jon with his name after the parentage reveal because she's seriously lost and alone at this point, I hope you stick with me as more will soon be added and we'll have Jon in the next chapters.   
> and yes, the pale redhead lady singing was Florence ;)  
> thank you for reading, please comment :) thanks


	3. A Just Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for the positive comments and the kudos, everyone, here is the new chapter to my season 8 fix it all fic, this is getting to a slower pace than i had planned but I enjoy making it all the same so here it is, I hope you like it :)

_Chapter Three - A Just Woman_

_‘‘Fight every battle, everywhere, always… In your mind, everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend.’’_

Another ghost lurking in the shadows of that very castle, LIttlefinger had taught Sansa well, her mind was racing as she rushed down towards the entrance of the castle and out at the yard.

She pushed aside all kinds of formalities, this was her sworn shield accompanied by her first husband, and the better one of them. All Northern Lords were at the feast, this would be a short but unique opportunity to talk without anyone else.

Ser Podric was with the duo, arriving on their tired horses and entering the grounds of Winterfell as she moved outside the snowy yard. Brienne dismounted first and faced the Queen in the North, she bowed with respect as the Commander of the Kingsguard. Sansa waited for her friend to do her duty before she could fall in her arms, the two embraced warmly.

‘Your Grace,’ Brienne only said happily as she kept Sansa tenderly enough not to hurt her against her breastplate. Sansa smiled up at the tall woman.

‘I missed you, my dear friend,’ Sansa spoke truthfully before she could look at Tyrion who had dismounted as well and waited for the two women to finish their greeting. The Hand’s pin on his own breast, clothed in a heavy cloak, his breath coming in puffs of smoke. He bowed his short body before her with mirth in his eyes.

‘Queen Sansa,’ he said formally as Sansa smiled and nodded her head, extending her hand for the man to kiss and greet her as high council members did to Queens of other kingdoms.

‘Tyrion, it’s good to see you well and sober.’ Sansa greeted him and he shrugged after he released her hand. She gestured for a stable boy who approached to take the horses to warmth.

‘Sober I remain for no much longer, I hope,’ he replied to her amusement. Brienne only rolled her eyes.

‘Come on in then, you must be exhausted and freezing, the finest wine awaits in my solar.’ Sansa offered gracefully as the four people started for inside the castle, all too well familiar with the grounds.

‘The renovations go remarkably well,’ Tyrion observed and Sansa nodded, protocol demanded of him being a step behind her and the Knights tailing them both.

‘We do our best, life is slowly going back to normal, the first bastard children have been born in Wintertown, I’m doing my best for them to be somehow legalized and allowed education and food. Deserters of bastard babies are punished with stripping of all their properties. A remarkably efficient way of contraception may I add.’ Sansa elaborated on the news of her kingdom and Tyrion nodded his head in admiration of her method. The subject of bastards was a sensitive one to Sansa and Tyrion could understand.

I like your policies, your Grace.’ He finally admitted and Sansa smiled.

‘How’s my baby brother?’ Sansa asked, changing the subject politely as they moved up the stairs of the highest tower leading to the master chamber that once belonged to her parents, the room she had been born in and currently resided.

‘He’s very well, sending his warm regards.’ Tyrion offered politically and Sansa glanced at him, “warm” was something Bran didn’t do anymore. Tyrion shrugged again and sighed. ‘As warm as they can get anyway,’ he added and Sansa actually snorted a laugh. It’s been a year, she had taken her time to deal with the fate of most of her relatives, not all yet but she was trying.

She opened the door of her chambers herself and dismissed the guards at the sides of it. She needed privacy and knew how whispers slipped through brick walls no matter how hard you tried to keep them hushed.

She gestured for everyone to sit around the roaring fire of the solar, where her desk had been transferred so she could have privacy while working on letters and requests. She couldn’t help but stand before Tyrion and some open parchments as she saw the last remaining Lannister trying to peer at some of them. She looked at him pointedly and then smiled kindly at Podric, gesturing for the wine and glasses on a table by the window, where it’d be kept colder. The young knight was more than happy to reach for it, under Brienne’s disapproving eyes. Sansa pushed the parchments behind her and gestured for Tyrion to sit first before the fire. He only nodded his head, getting the hint, he wouldn’t peer at Northern secrets and affairs. He finally sat down first, followed by the young Queen and the two knights after Podric offered a glass to each one. Tyrion swallowed down almost half of it.

‘Oh it’s indeed the Vale’s finest,’ Tyrion commented, rcognizing the wine, Sansa nodded. ‘So sweet and good… Like your good cousin Robin,’ he added and Sansa smirked at him, her crystal blue eyes upon the man she once bowed down to as to be cloaked in that travesty of a wedding they had before the Seven. She knew when Tyrion tried to hint at something.

‘Robin is very good indeed, from the Six Kingdoms, he’s the Lord keeping the tightest relations to the North. I gave the Knights of the Vale back to him as he deserved but he and his people feel very close to me and my kingdom, for old time’s sake and the Tully blood that runs in our veins.’ Sansa added honestly even if she knew Tyrion knew all this already.

‘An heir between you and him would unite half the map of Westeros under your crown.’ Tyrion offered and Sansa’s gaze cooled more upon him.

‘I’m not tying myself or my kingdom back to the rest of Westeros.’ she declared cooly. ‘If I ever marry, I’ll be married to a Northman,’ Sansa added sternly. ‘ _If_ you came up all this way to ask over my matching plans, I request you wait until the morrow and the weekly council of mine. Half the Lords of the North requiere of me to get married and produce heirs before the Summertime. You can cast your own points and ideas.’ Sansa added boldly over her own personal and state affairs and felt Brienne shifting uncomfortably on her chair.

‘Your Grace, I’m sure Master Tyrion meant no disrespect,’ the knight tried, earning a soft glance from Sansa as Tyrion bought the seconds to clear his throat.

‘No, Sansa, we’re here because Bran sent us to speak to you in person over your other cousin.’ His words made her stomach drop. She gripped her cup harder in her hand, a subtle gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Tyrion who kept on looking at her. Her heart kicked faster within her ribcage. She remained silent, not trusting her voice to vocalize anything, even his very name.

‘Have you sent some raven to him over this past year?’ Tyrion asked softly this time, sympathy cloaking every word as Sansa sipped from the wine, suddenly too sweet to the taste, almost like poison. She had sent a raven twice, both going unanswered, the first was asking if he arrived safely and was alright, the second updating him on the reconstruction of Winterfell. Jon had never replied, breaking Sansa’s already fractured heart further.

‘I sent two ravens, he never answered.’ Sansa finally replied, her voice hoarse, her throat suddenly dry despite the sweet wine.

‘King Bran had looked for him, he had left for beyond the Wall before your ravens could arrive. He just returned, always according to Bran.’ Tyrion explained softly, making Sansa let lose a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Relief swept through her at the sound of the truth, he hadn’t ignored her, he had simply not received anything. Sansa was not surprised Jon had wandered over the Upper North for a year now. He needed time, that was for sure, keeping him locked in a place after being Daenerys’ captive at Dragonstone would have been too much for him, Sansa could imagine.

‘I see, and what Bran wants from Jon now?’ Sansa asked, as evenly as she could and Tyrion looked deep into her eyes as he leaned towards her seat.

‘Exactly what you want,’ Tyrion offered. ‘Jon’s pardon and return.’ he added and Sansa kept her breath in her throat as Tyrion pulled a small parchment, sealed by the King of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros with the Raven Sigil. Sansa took the roll and looked at Tyrion.

‘What makes you believe this will persuade Jon to return?’ Sansa asked and Tyrion smiled at her for the first time since their arrival.

‘It won’t, you will, Sansa,’ Tyrion replied and Sansa actually and so very unqueenly snorted and stood from her chair, pacing towards the window of her solar, suddenly needing the chill of the night even if her Southern guests would hate it, she opened the window a crack and her eyes drifted close as the chill caressed her face, she inhaled at the crisp air through her nose until her nostrils burnt.

‘He would never listen to me,’ Sansa announced. He hadn’t had forgiven her before his departure for the Wall. So many things had happened between them before the fight of the Long Night and the Destruction of King’s Landing. She wasn’t sure if there was anything left to be said between them anymore, even though nothing had been said at all. ‘And what about that for life sentence you all agreed for him in the Dragonpit? What about Yara and Gendry? Would they be alright with Jon returning?’ Sansa asked and knew Gendry would be persuaded, holding a soft spot for the North through Arya. But Yara had threatened with Jon’s death, Arya had threatened with cutting her throat and Sansa would gladly sink the Iron Fleet to defend him. Damn it all, she hated how her reflexes worked in his favor, just like his once worked for her and her own protection.

‘We already held a council about it, King Bran explained his reasons and Yara was outvoted five to one on the new decision. The Unsullied and Dothraki are across the world by now, it’s been only a year but they slowly have found new leaders among their own ranks, according our spies.’ Tyrion explained and Sansa turned and looked at him, her eyes cold but her brows drawn in confusion.

‘And Bran’s reasons are?’ Sansa asked weakly, not allowing herself to believe the road was being paved for Jon’s return. Armies and enemies aside, it was only for Jon to be persuaded to let go of his self-punishment and come back, maybe fighting the Unsullied would have been easier, Sansa feared.

‘Bran has found Drogon.’ Tyrion explained and Sansa nodded her head, frowning, recovering in her memory the small scroll from her brother that she had received earlier, the night suddenly seemed endless.

‘And?’ Sansa asked, Tyrion looked at her almost challenging.

‘ _And_ Jon’s a Targaryen,’ Tyrion stated the obvious, something a year ago had been said only in whispers, whispers spread because of her, the guilt bubbled within Sansa’s stomach. ‘Bran has the memory of the world, he knows how the first Targaryens tame the beasts. He wants Jon to have that knowledge, in case the dragon ever decides to return and lay more waste on the cities, in case we don’t have the time or the means to take him down.’ Tyrion explained and Sansa could hear it in his voice, there was more.

‘And?...’ she urged further and Tyrion sighed, glancing at the knights who nodded at him before they could all look at the young queen across the chamber.

‘And he had eggs, laid in Valyria, eggs that hatched,’ Tyrion finally added and Sansa’s gasp was cut by the sharp shiver she felt running down her spine. She would never forget the massive shadows cast upon her home when Jon brought the armies and the beasts, along the tyrant that ruled them all. ‘Bran is secretive about it, so very annoyingly so, but the moment he finally reached the beast, he saw through its eyes two more dragons, he believes the years will pass and the beasts might fly west again, here, searching for their tamer, wishing to finish what Daenerys started, we don’t know. All I know is that Bran finds it difficult to reach the dragons… the magic in their blood is powerful, of another kind, blocking Bran’s powers in many cases. It took him months to reach them and it already has offspring, maybe by the next time, they will be attacking Westeros without a whisper of warning.’ Tyrion explained and Sansa took a deep breath trying to process all this. ‘Also, Bran falls only weaker in his attempt to reach the beasts, he wants to teach Jon before he loses sight completely.’ Tyrion finished the bad news and silence lingered in the chamber before Sansa could actually chuckle and then start laughing openly, causing her companions to look at her and each other in worry.

Jon had been betrayed since birth, had a hard childhood because of her mother, had been lied to by her father, sent to the wall like a pariah, got betrayed there as well, went beyond the wall, was punished for it, killed for it, resurrected, encountered the Night King, the dead and a living dead Dragon, was captured by the Mad Queen and got trapped in a hellhole only Sansa could understand due to her blindness with Joffrey, his own blindness caused him to be part of a genocide and forced his hand to kill his tyrant, got exiled and now was summoned back with a pardon and another bane of learning to tame a fucking dragon to save everyone because he was the only one of magical blood, his parentage really was a bane.

‘Oh he is so not coming back,’ Sansa said as she tried to compose herself, finally the neurotic laughter abandoning her, replaced by sorrow, fear and worry over him. ‘And he certainly won’t come back just because of two scrolls pardoning him.’ she added sober, knowing a scroll like the one she held was in her first drawer, made by her a day after her coronation and waiting for the right moment to be sent to him.

‘Sansa, why you think Bran sent Jon to the North?’ Tyrion asked and Sansa looked at him. ‘That day we took our decisions, you had already declared your kingdom’s independence. Bran had exiled Jon into your part of the continent, in your dominion…’ Tyrion pointed out. ‘He could have send Jon to Naath, west of Westeros with your sister, wherever else but so close to you…’ Tyrion added and Sansa kept silent, having had thought of all this herself.

‘He won’t come. No matter how close to me he is,’ Sansa countered again, her voice sad.

‘No, he won’t come indeed,’ Tyrion admitted, making Sansa look into his eyes for his next words. ‘But we’ll go to him, he’s an honorable man, and you’re a just woman, no matter how lost he thinks he is, he won’t be able to deny his pardon by a King and a Queen and the Queen’s straight order to pick up his wolf dog and move to Winterfell as commanded.’ Tyrion added finally and Sansa sighed at the words, she knew, deep down she knew she’d meet him one day again, at Castle Black, where their first reunion took place, only back then he was the Commander and she was the outcast, running in search for protection.

Now she’d go back to it, a Queen of the North, the first woman to hold the title and power in the eight thousand years of the kingdom’s history, and he’d be the one pardoned, the one needing the protection of the North for his return, and at the same time, as the shield of the Realm of Men, under his watch, he had to protect everyone from fire and blood.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, I have decided that Sansa will be shown as what she learnt to be, a queen in the chess game, Bran had sent Jon to exile basically under her wing and soon we'll have these two facing each other, next chapter it's time for Jon to appear, I hope you all liked it, I did my best to keep the characters familiar, yes Drogon is back and has company, we'll see where this will lead us, thank you for reading please comment? kudos? thank you


	4. An Honourable Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the response to my story, I am so happy you like my work, here is the new chapter, the one I wanted to make since the beginning, Jon's POV on everything that happened.  
> GoT writers destroyed Jon's arc to make a point out for Dany, absolutely disgraceful, so here I hope I made justice to a character who was never my fave (heart eyes at Sansa and Cersei) but always respected and hoped so here is my attempt, hopefully I included everything and you like the way I see him, a little political, a little sacrificial and s6 feeling like

_ Chapter Four - An Honorable Man _

 

The two scrolls were left on the table, open and read, the wax seal with the Stark direwolf broken. The man’s dark eyes lingered on them as his frowned mouth was covered by his fist. Slumbered on the chair before his old office, Jon Snow couldn’t tear his gaze away from the letters, away from her neat handwriting, illuminated by the pale morning light. 

 

_ Dearest Jon _

 

_ I hope you arrived safely at the Wall. I hope your heart will find peace there. I miss you and wish you were here. My coronation will take place in a moon’s time. Although so far away from our home, I will keep you close to my heart that day.  _

 

_ Sansa _

  
  


_ Dearest Jon _

 

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I’m writing to inform you that the restoration of Winterfell is going smoothly. Hopefully the Winter will finish soon and the supplies will be enough until then. People whisper of the King Beyond the Wall already, I hope you are well. I don’t mean to bother or annoy you. My first letter to you went unanswered, if you don’t respond in this one either, I will understand and not bother you until you feel it in you to send me a raven.  _

 

_ Sansa _

 

She had been true to her word, she hadn’t sent another letter, probably thinking she was an annoyance. Jon sighed as he picked up the letters only to leave them back on the tabletop with a sigh. He had opened them only that morning, after returning from beyond the Wall for almost a year. He had already left when the first letter arrived, as he was informed by the rest of his Brothers in the Night’s Watch, then the second letter had arrived but he wasn’t there to receive that either. And then silence, Sansa had believed he didn’t want to keep contact with her. He wished he could suppress the tightness on his chest at the sight of her letters, at the knowledge of how lonely she must had been in  Winterfell, of how much she loathed that. 

Either of them had wished for the crown of the North and yet both wore it, only he gave it up to save the place and she wore it after earning its independence. 

He wished he had healed, after a year away, wandering through unmapped territories, finding more hoards of wildlings. Being chosen by the freefolk as the closest thing to a leader the free men would have. And back at Castle Black,  although some things had changed and he hadn’t re-taken his vow, feeling unworthy to do so with no honor left. He was considered the Lord Commander anyway, many looked up to him for guidance, for help and advice, he had done the job before after all.

He couldn’t escape his fate, he thought with another sight as he finally picked up the quill and parchment, set aside her letters and scrambled her name on it. 

 

_ Dearest Sansa _

 

He gave pause, staring off into the corner, where his massive direwolf snored softly, Jon tried to think of what to write, what to explain, what to say. It had been a year, whispers reached the Castle and he learnt of them now that he was back. She hadn’t been wed or appointed some betrothal to herself, still consumed into restoring Winterfell. Yet he was sure the Northern Lords would want her married by the end of Winter, he clenched his fists at the memory of Ramsay Bolton, how he had tortured her, how good Jon had felt as he smashed these very fists into the bastard’s face before Sansa could stop him and share into the revenge. He wouldn’t blame her if she chose not to marry at all, two marriages, both disastrous for a girl that wanted nothing else but a happy family with a good husband and children, and she got all but what her heart yearned for.

He stared at the parchment with her name on. Would she wish to hear from him after a year? If he explained why he hadn’t replied in the first place? Of course she would, for that Jon was certain, she cared, like he did, always. She would want to know of his year away, he could imagine her next letter, he would have to explain the truth then. 

How he traveled past the Wall and beyond to forget, to heal and move on from what happened, and how he partly achieved so. 

He had left for Dragonstone with Sansa left behind, with the North in her hands, a part of him in her hands, even if she probably didn’t realize how much of a big part she held. He had traveled away from the guilt of caring so deeply for his sister, sinfully thinking of her in way brothers shouldn’t think of their sisters. They were not Lannisters, they were not tainted, however he felt so. And his mind couldn’t abandon her when she was proven right and he was held without his will by Daenerys. He had seen the danger in those violet eyes of the Dragon Queen, yet he had decided to play a dangerous game, he had decided to save the North and Sansa, no matter the cost.

He had bent the knee -even if he hadn’t done so actually- for the dragonglass and the dragons and the armies, to save his home. Daenerys would come for sure after she had seen the wights, after she lost one of her children to the Night King. Jon had been smarter as Sansa had instructed or thus he had hoped to be. Every action, every choice of his had one intention, to protect her, no matter the cost, she wouldn’t be turned into a monster, none of them would. He played with fire and blood to win the icy night, and while playing, he decided to rid himself of the taintenous thoughts and feelings. He had realized his love and need for Sansa in the crypts, right before his departure, when he grabbed Baelish by the throat, mentioning her as his sister for the last time, coating the word with the poison that coiled inside him, after that she was Ned Stark’s daughter, the Lady of Winterfell, anything else but his sister, Sansa, secretly,  _ his  _ Sansa. No man would touch her, no man would lay their eyes upon her, not after what she’d been through, not if he could stop them all. 

He laid with Daenerys in hopes of keeping her interested, in hopes of forgetting the sinful love he felt for his own sister, the feelings that boiled like poison in his belly, the eagerness to feel Sansa’s skin against his own in every embrace, in every brush of hands and smile of hers towards him. Being a bastard himself he was glad Daenerys was barren, so no bastard children would suffer his fate. He needed his ruined honor and he needed the armies and the dragons. 

He persuaded himself he loved Daenerys, and maybe, just maybe for a little while, he believed he loved the Dragon Queen, despite her moral code and her crimes, he had prefered that over realizing that he loved his own sister. Love is blindness they say and he chose to stab his own eyes and follow Daenerys blindly. 

All these self-imposed lies collapsed within his heart the moment he saw her again, the Lady of Winterfell, by Bran’s side, waiting to give up the North she had kept united in his absence because of his choices without her consent. Her cool eyes had looked at him with warmth however as she had engulfed him in her arms and he hadn’t felt more disgraced in his life, for betraying her in his attempt to save her, for betraying himself in his attempt to get over her. 

_ ‘Did you bend the knee to save the North or because you love her?’  _ the hurt in her eyes that night still haunted him, more than the battle of the dead, more than what he had done afterwards. 

Sansa wouldn’t play along, of course she wouldn’t, she was suspicious and stubborn, knowing something was amiss but unable to understand what. All that didn’t matter to Jon, all he knew was that the Night was coming and they had to fight it, she had to be kept protected while the rest fought, for if there was a chance for someone to rule afterwards, that was Sansa. And he had vowed to protect her.

Sam had told him the truth, the truth that had torn everyone apart, it had been revealed at the worst possible moment. And he chose to speak it to Daenerys, their relationship wouldn’t conclude easily, she was falling too hard for him while she was losing control and her mind. She was becoming dangerous and Sansa shone like a beacon of warning for her impending rule. His love for Sansa wasn’t heinous anymore but he had brought a Dragon in the Wolves’ nest and the elder She-Wolf kept provoking that Dragon. He had started a dangerous game and he had felt like losing it from day one, the reveal of his lineage only turned the game deadlier. 

His encounter with Daenerys proved how fragile Sansa’s protection was. Daenerys had demanded of him to keep his mouth shut about his parents. She had tried to turn him doubtful and against Sansa, claiming she wasn’t the girl she once was. And Daenerys had been right, but he wasn’t the boy he once was either. He was a man changed, twisted, lost and struggling in a game of fire and blood, the same blood that ran in his and Daenerys’ veins. 

_ ‘Go on, I believe in you,’  _ Sansa always did, without asking anything more but for him to be smart and better and he was constantly failing her. He had tried so hard, so hard to avoid her, to keep her at distance, his heart wrenched apart at her frustration and betrayal. Every time he laid eyes on her, the old feeling in his belly returned, and to his horror over her safety, he could see her returned tension and feelings. He wasn’t blind, he knew, Sansa had chosen the worst moment possible to release what he had been trying to keep hidden for so long, maybe in her final attempt to keep him away from the dragon. And Daenerys wasn’t naive either, she could see the signs, she could see the game crumbling as every time, he chose Sansa over her, he chose to be a shield to her against everyone, against his supposed Queen. The Targaryens were used to marry their siblings, the Starks however not, but Daenerys knew, cousins could be close, it was common across Westeros and Essos and she had valued Sansa not only as an obstacle to her rule, but also as competition for Jon’s heart, without knowing there was no match to challenge Sansa for that matter.

He had to tell Sansa and the rest, to know that their father hadn’t been unfaithful, for Sansa to know they weren’t siblings… For Sansa to understand that he’d always choose her over anyone else. And he had hoped she would keep her promise, he had hoped she wouldn’t put herself in more danger by letting out the secret. The Night had been defeated, he had made peace with his stupid choices by then, he would follow Daenerys South, he would persuade himself she’d be a good queen to them all. He would take her away from Sansa and Winterfell and he would do anything in his power to keep Sansa safe for as long as he drew breath. No matter how fast Daenerys changed, no matter the signs, no matter of what she demanded of him, how many things she tried to inflict on him. He had chosen his duty to protect Sansa over his love for her, a love that wasn’t sinful anymore but had to be put aside before her own life. She might had felt angry, betrayed, unworthy of his trust but he couldn’t explain to her, not with Varys and his little birds around them, not with so many enemies flocked inside of WInterfell and two dragons flying overhead. He had hoped he’d get the chance someday to explain to her everything but not yet, not with Daenerys so close and suspicious. 

Sansa -to his dismay and despair- even tried to keep them longer in the North for the troops to recover, she had been right but Daenerys had been furious and he had been desperate to draw the Dragon Queen away. Breaking Sansa’s heart a little more each time, he always agreed with Daenerys, hoping they’d head South before it was too late for Sansa. 

Her eyes upon him at the sound of Bran’s voice, explaining of Jon’s true parentage still burnt in his mind, the disbelief, the fear, the relief. They had held each other’s gazes for a moment more before she could rush in his arms once again, holding him close, their first and last embrace in Winterfell. 

_ ‘You’ll always be a Stark to me,’  _ she had whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine as he had turned his head and pecked her tear streaked cheek, unable to hold back the breath trapped in his lungs. Arya and Bran had remained, Arya still looking at loss of words, Bran looking at Jon knowingly. 

And they had rode South, Daenerys had left with the dragons while Jon marched with the rest of the troops. News of losing Rhaegal and Missandei had reached him fast and he knew, she was only descending deeper into madness by the minute. He had tried, so hard to persuade her, with his words and body but both failed him as she declined reason in her mind. She burnt Varys, she chose fear and Jon could only think he had helped a monster overcome all others. Sansa wasn’t safe, Westeros wasn’t safe, he had made sure of that and it was killing him. He was tired of fighting, he once had admitted to Sansa, and ever since he told her, he had fought again and again, for Winterfell, against the Night and now he had to fight for the South. And like before, he would fight and he would lose. 

The bells still rang with an echo in his memory, the screams of fear, the anticipation of it all to be over before it began. Jon closed his eyes at the memory of Drogon’s first screech before take off. The first breath of fire and then chaos. 

She had burnt the Tarlies and she had burnt supplies for the people in need, she had burnt and crucified and buried people alive, it should have been no surprise to a bystander, he was sure it hadn’t been a surprise to Sansa. But it was pure hell to him as he watched around him King’s Landing burn. The Unsullied killing surrendered soldiers, the Dothraki reaping lives of innocents, his own Northern armies going against every value and killing peasants, raping and destroying. He tried to stop them, he saved a girl from rape, hopefully she made it through that day. He wouldn’t have women and children killed and raped, he wouldn’t have innocents drying. He had once vowed to be the Shield of the Realm of Men and he had brought Fire and Blood into the capital. His own blood as he loathed to think and realize. 

He was desperate as he tried to have them fall back, betraying every order like she betrayed her promise not to attack if the bells rang, and the bells had rung, only she hadn’t cared. The Mad Queen burnt the city, the palace, the people, she burnt them all. 

The day became night, a thick cloud of ash covered the sky until the end of the horizon, mixed with dust and smoke. The temperature fell despite the endless dragon fire that kept on burning around the city, despite the wildfire Cersei had planted beneath the swallow streets. 

He started for the palace, through her armies, with Drogon flying above. He was defeated, crazed, shocked and horrified. She had won, she wouldn’t be a good queen as he had kept telling people while attempting to save them all from the Night, but she had won, with her savage armies and her only child. 

He spoke no Valyrian but from the reaction of her war-thirsty armies, she promised them more, King’s Landing had only been the beginning. At the mention of Winterfell he felt his knees going weak. Tyrion moved close to Daenerys, she told him something and he nodded before he could throw away the pin of the Hand. He was arrested immediately after. Varys was gone, Tyrion was soon to be destroyed too and then it was his turn, and she knew only half his betrayal, she didn’t know of the fake feelings he had persuaded he had for her. And he very well knew, after himself, it would be Sansa. 

Arya was next to him a heartbeat later and he urged her to go the gate of the city. He would follow her, if they reached Winterfell first, if he somehow persuaded Sansa like he had persuaded Daenerys. He was fooling himself and Arya put him back in place. Sansa had seen all that, she had spread the truth to protect him, it’s one thing for the new queen to kill a bastard lover, and another thing to kill the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. 

He was afraid for all of them, for the realm and across it. He had lost his honor, he had abandoned the woman he loved and placating the Dragon Queen wouldn’t work anymore. Maybe it was time to surrender, he had thought back then, whoever went against her ended up in ash, even if they surrendered they ended up in ash, his fear was consuming him. He was blind with terror over what his own blood had done, over what rushed through his veins. 

_ ‘Love is the Death of Duty,’ _ he had told Tyrion. He was the only one able to stop Daenerys, in one way possible. 

‘And sometimes, Duty is the Death of Love,’ Tyrion had replied pointedly. He knew, of course he did, he was a man of passions and lessons, he had seen it, either in him or in Sansa or in both. Jon’s duty to protect Sansa had killed their love. Sansa was the personification of his guilt, for wanting and loving his once thought sister, for keeping everyone away from her, for keeping her away when he learnt the truth, for stripping her of her land and home and giving it away to Daenerys, for demanding her trust and never giving any of it back in the madenning game he had chosen to play alone . Then Jon’s duty as guard of the realm of Men from Daenerys, the personification of his shame, had been upon him. The shame he held for using Dany, bending the knee for her armies when he didn’t even get to do it properly, for pushing her further into madness possibly, for placating her, ending up in the bed of his own aunt. 

He seemed to have a prevention for lusting after his own blood, the same blood that destroyed his mother, the North and Westeros. From the dragon’s side, he had the same magical, full of madness blood, from the wolf’s side, resilience and a foolish sense of honor when he had sold it all in a game he hadn’t been able to play properly. He ended up as the last dragon and the lone wolf, his pack could survive even if scattered across the world, the Red Wolf reigned upon the North and for that he was at least thankful. 

He tried one last time in vain, in denial, hoping it’d give him strength to watch more burn while standing behind her, hopefully less than the ones they’d protest.

_ ‘And your sisters? Do you see them bending the knee?’ _ Tyrion had hit right where he knew would hurt.

_ ‘My sisters will be loyal to the Throne,’  _ he had lied to the dwarf and himself. 

_ ‘Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? Because she don’t want Dany to be Queen,’ _ Tyrion had stroke him with his final whip, desperate for Jon to stop acting blind before it was too late. 

_ ‘She doesn’t get to choose!’ _ Jon had almost screamed in anger and desperation. Now, a year later he could see how right he had been, Sansa hadn’t get to choose when Joffrey had humiliated and kept her captive, when Baelish forced himself upon her, when Ramsay raped and tortured her until Theon showed mercy on her and helped her escape. And if Jon hadn’t snapped out of his denial, Sansa wouldn’t have get to choose to live because of Daenerys. 

_ ‘No but you do, and you have to choose now,’  _ Tyrion’s seemingly last words had been engraved in his memories. He had ultimately chose Sansa, like always, because he knew she’d be next. Arya could avoid death forever if she wished to, but Sansa would stubbornly wait in Winterfell for her demise, to make an example of Daenerys’ cruelty, Sansa had chosen to be the Stark in Winterfell and he would do anything to keep her protected there. He would die anyway, again, only this time, with a purpose to save the woman he loved. 

He had tried to salvage what was left of the world and Daenerys’ humane feelings. He had tried to pardon Tyrion, he had tried to pardon the world, or what was left of it. But she had shown no mercy, small or otherwise. She had spoken of a world different, a good world, a world that had never been before, a world inflicted upon everyone. 

_ ‘They don’t get to choose,’ _ she had whispered and he knew, he knew there had to be an end to it all. She had talked of the two of them and that new world, while they stood in ashes, she had talked of their reason, while she had turned mad with power, she had talked of breaking the wheel together, yet he wanted to have nothing to do with that, damn the consequences, he could see the madness and love in her eyes as he decided to offer her one final lie. 

_ ‘You are my Queen, Now and Always,’ _ words of betrayal, followed by a kiss for her not to see the dagger and call upon her armies and her dragon. He knew exactly where to strike, had been struck there himself. And he did, she fell silently, so unlike the way she had come to life. 

Drogon had approached and Jon had been thankful. He was left a hollow man, either killing, betraying or manipulating women who loved him. Drogon screeched and growled, Jon was ready, he was half Targaryen, the damn house could finally perish in Dragonfire by the beast killing him. But it didn’t, unlike other Dragons that had eaten or burnt members of the Targaryen family, Drogon had chosen to destroy the Iron Throne, once forged by its own ancestors and took Daenerys’ body and left, leaving Jon unharmed. 

He didn’t know why and he hadn’t thought about it. His trial had taken place without his own presence. Tyrion -who skillfully avoided his fate and became the new Hand- had informed him of his fate, his exile, and he had taken the sentence with no complain, only despair. Sansa and Arya had fought for him -to his everlasting shame and guilt- but he had kept his mouth shut about it all. He deserved to live and drown in his own memories and mistakes. She had embraced him gently, tentatively, he had wrapped his arms around her, clutching her in them one last time, speaking of the North when she required forgiveness, humbled and ashamed of her gentle heart and teary eyes. He spoke of the North and his pride for her, he had nothing to forgive, and he had everything to beg forgiveness for. 

Arya had decided to leave and Jon had finally truly bent the knee, for the first and last time, to his baby cousin, the three-eyed raven, whatever that meant for he hadn’t had the time to spend with his family after his return in the North. He apologized for not being there and Bran had looked at him with that passive set of eyes, seeing so much more than the rest of the human race. 

_ ‘You were exactly where you were supposed to be.’ _ he had only said and Jon had nodded and stood. Glancing one last time at Sansa, hoping for those blue crystals to be happy one day. Davos had spoken of an honorable man and a just woman ruling the Kingdoms. Bran was that man and Sansa was that woman. Beside his bitterness and pain, he hoped Sansa would find someone to love and be loved by, as she deserved, loneliness crippled people, he knew that, and she was alone in Winterfell, ruling a land hard and stubborn to give fruit, with people as hard and stubborn to be ruled. She had changed, she wasn’t the spoiled girl behind Catelyn’s skirts, she was a woman of her own right, the first Queen in the North in its eight thousand years of history, and he was so proud of her, the only positive feeling he kept in his heart ever since he reached Castle Black and travelled beyond it. 

‘Little crow!’ Tormund burst through the door of the room, causing Ghost to jerk awake and growl, he sniffed the air and despite his age and adventures, he rushed outside the room quickly, chasing after whatever he smelled. ‘Don’t you listen the ruckus downstairs?’ the large man asked and Jon shook his head to chase away the memories and focus on his friend. 

‘No… what is going on?’ Jon’s voice was hoarse after so long without a word spoken. Tormund looked at him as if he had grown a second head but shook his own head and approached, mirth danced in his eyes.

‘We are having guests, any moment now,’ Tormund announced, too happy for strangers approaching the castle. ‘Guests we  _ both  _ know….’ he added and then boomed an excited laugh. Jon frowned at the man’s words and stood up, looking at him in wonder. 

‘Stop brooding and come to the yard with me, the large woman is approaching!’ Tormund beamed and Jon frowned more, Brienne, Sansa’s former sworn shield and current Commander of the Kingsguard. ‘Escorting your cousin here, along some bannermen… and the imp,’ Tormund added the words that made Jon gasp at. Arya was across the world, Bran wouldn’t be able to make such a long journey. 

‘Sansa?’ Jon wondered in a whisper and Tormund nodded. 

‘Aye, her fire kissed hair shows from miles away. They’re riding towards here, their first scouts arrived. Declaring her approach and demand to open the gate. I already allowed it.’ Tormund said as Jon was already grabbing his cloak with fur and his sword. He was passing with Tormund beside him as they descended to the yard, where Brothers of the Night’s Watch and free men alike worked for the daily needs of the Castle, all of them had paused as they watched the party approaching. 

Through the snowy canopy before him, he could see her, white horse, dark dress, fire-red hair, the party was galloping their final miles to the Castle. Jon could feel his heart pound harder as they approached. No warning, no letter and no announcement. Sansa somehow knew he was there at last and she had lost no time, the company from the rest of Westeros worried him but he couldn’t fight the swelling of his heart at her sight as she galloped ahead of everyone else, approaching in regal grace. 

He could only marvel at her sight, a sight he believed his eyes would never behold again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes Tormund is excited for seeing Brienne again!!!!  
> I didn't want Sansa actually reaching yet as this was a chapter dedicated to Jon and Jon alone, he deserved it I believe  
> I hope you liked my analysis/justification of everything, I hope you can relate to this point of view, he's been through so much and I needed to give him some redemption, reason, feelings he so much lacked in s8  
> thank you very much for reading, yes, next chapter, jonsa finally meet each other  
> thank you for reading, let me know what you think???


	5. Grey and Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the kudos and comments, so happy you like my work so far, here is a new, a bit small chapter compared to the others as it formed itself on its own, the reunion, I hope you all like it. 
> 
> this is how I imagine their children from Chapter 1 by the way ;)
> 
> <https://christinapotter09.tumblr.com/post/185312284882/jon-and-sansas-children>

Chapter Five - Grey and Black

 

_ ‘’You’re not happy… Why you’re not happy? What do you want that you do not have?’’ _

 

Littlefinger’s words rushed in her mind as the wind blew against her pale face, his ghost haunting her in it. Sansa was exhausted as she and her party trotted towards the Wall, the winds were sharper, colder there, although Spring approached. She closed her eyes and bent her head to shield her face from the icy breeze and chase away the memory.

They had sent no foreword to the Night’s Watch, no King in the North had visited before as there hadn’t been one in hundreds of years. Sansa was secretly afraid that if Jon was warned of her arrival, he might even rode for beyond the Wall again. Her hands clutched at her horse’s reigns at the thought. They had been travelling for days, with stops in familiar Castles of houses sworn to the Stark dynasty, opening their gates and quarters for the Queen, ever loyal to Sansa who brought independence. Sansa remembered a completely different route, full of dangers, traps and biting cold, sleeping in the forest with Brienne so close to her, ready to give her life for the young Stark. 

The Queen turned her head and looked at the Knight who was already looking at her direction, Brienne smiled genuinely at Sansa as she urged her horse closer to the white mare of the Queen. 

‘Are you alright, Your Grace?’ Brienne asked, always wishing to make sure of Sansa’s wellbeing. Sansa decided not to ponder too much on the state of herself. Her tired spine, her chilled toes, her aching heart and racing mind as her eyes lay on the first shadows of Castle Black in the distance, the Wall’s massive shadow chilled their path as they approached. Sansa’s eyes drifted to the east, the wall seemed unharmed up to the end of the horizon but she knew, at the end of it, there was a massive breach, from which the Dead marched south to her home.

‘I’m well, Brienne, thank you,’ Sansa replied kindly and turned to look at Tyrion on her other side, he seemed even more miserable on his horse, the Winter didn’t suit him and the Wall obviously pulled out of him his brooding side. Only Northerners could appreciate the beauty of the deep ice. Sansa wondered if Jon would appreciate Tyrion’s presense at Castle Black, or her own for that matter. 

Tyrion had whispered treason in Jon’s ear, that was all Sansa knew, from Tyrion himself. Yet Jon had gotten exiled and Tyrion had climbed on the King’s table as the Hand. Sansa had fought so hard those days in King’s Landing rumble for Jon’s fate that she hadn’t had the time to contemplate Tyrion’s, or Bran’s choices. A year later, she couldn’t help but face the truth, she despised her little brother’s choices of council and Hand, no matter the motives. 

Tyrion had been kind to her, but he had made so many mistakes, had led people to destruction, urged Daenerys on as she destroyed across the coastline of Essos, becoming powerful and pulling her hand to cross the sea towards Westeros. He was attempting to fix the world he had destroyed as Bran had suggested for him to do, but Sansa wondered if she was just playing in another small -or rather big- game of the dwarf as the royal party followed her towards the Wall. She didn’t want to live with her ghosts but her mind always rushed between possibilities, memories, opportunities and traps, she couldn’t help herself, the North remembers, she remembered every deed, every motive and every scenario. 

‘My lady, allow me to stay close in whatever chambers are given to you.’’ Brienne’s words pulled her out of her thoughts as she looked back at her former sworn shield. The doubt about Tyrion seeded in her mind and lingering.

‘I appreciate your protection, Brienne, but I am sure I will be safe,’  _ ‘He will protect me,’  _ her mind whispered to her, mostly out of reflex, he had promised, she was sure he’d keep that promise.  

The castle was clearer in the white horizon before them, the King’s tower visible in the distance. Sansa decided to urge her horse forward, faster, the anticipation and fear rising to her throat as her good strong horse started galloping, her dress heavier against the cold, shielding her body, her heart racing. 

She could see more and more dark-cloaked figures gathering through the opening gates. The white beast that surged forward the moment the doors were open made Sansa smile as Ghost ran towards her at remarkable speed, his red eyes soon distinct against the white. Her horse didn’t stop or feared the direwolf as it had been trained to live among the beast. Ghost whined and howled the moment he reached Sansa, his tail signaling his happiness. Sansa laughed as he aligned with her and together they rushed closer to the gates of Castle Black, her royal party some feet away from her, all rushing in their final mile or so to the Wall. 

Sansa finally reached the gates and slowed her mare as she entered the yard, her eyes found him easily, his dark grey gaze already set upon her, stealing her breath away. She shivered as she came to a stop before the men of the Night’s Watch, never breaking eye contact with him. She only did to dismount, she did so gracefully and Ghost rushed closer, trying to lick her face, she smiled at the beast and rubbed his fur behind his missing ear before she could turn and look back at him.

He had unconsciously made two steps forward, ready to help her off her horse but she had not needed the assistance. He hadn’t realized the rest of the men had remained behind him, he had realized nothing but his racing heart that skipped a beat at the sight of her smile at his direwolf, the smile fading as she looked back at him, their gazes reconnected. 

Mumbled words and shuffling of heavy cloaks filled the courtyard as the men of the Night’s Watch bowed to the Queen in the North, they were in her dominion, the Wall separating her realm from his, the King Beyond the Wall, the Crow King. Only the two remained standing, looking at each other, her party was still approaching as his men had bowed down to her. 

Braided, fire kissed hair, dusted with snow, angry black curls, wild eyes looking at each other with a only feet separating each other and Ghost between them, looking at them in wonder as the awkward and tensed silence stretched.  

She was beautiful, more beautiful than ever, her face a mask of regal indifference but he could see the Sansa he had met so long ago in that very Castle, the chased girl, the tortured sister. Now she was there again, hid cousin, as Queen and ruler, the Red Wolf, the Independent, bringing a massive circle to an end and opening another. He stood tall as he fought to keep his heart from stop beating, he kept his lips shut, not sure what to say.

He was alive, the very thought shook her to her core, it had been a year, he was alive, not answering her letters, escaping the faith of a Queenslayer, -a Tyrant Slayer as she liked to think him - he was before her, as if nothing had changed ever since the first time they met in that same courtyard. 

She felt her body moving forward and he felt his body bowing, his leg ready to bend as she approached, to her, he would actually kneel. 

‘Don’t…’ her voice was rushed, accompanied by a puff of her hot breath in the cold air. He paused and looked at her. ‘You don’t have to bend the knee to me, Jon, or to anyone for that matter.’ signaling his decency and freedom, her voice was as he remembered it, slightly trembling in complete contrast with her cold demeanor, that too was breaking as he straightened up his spine again and she finally surged forward as he opened his arms for her. 

Her party entered the gate the moment she fell in his arms, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his wrapped around her waist. She felt him raising her off her feet slightly, their breaths stolen, eyes shut in relief and completeness, their bodies meeting perfectly as if they were made for each other. They always reached out for each other, always spoke easier with their eyes and bodies than their tongues. Words betrayed, words scarred, their bodies always spoke the truth every time they hugged, every time they grasped or held each other. 

They broke their embrace and he set her back down, she had worn no crown, only her grace, he had no authority there, only the one everyone agreed to bestow upon him with. The world had slowed around them, someone was complaining about the cold, horses were huffing their exhaustion, soldiers were helped by men of the Watch, the grey of Stark House mendling with the Black. 

‘Sansa…’ her name fell like a prayer from his lips, her heart beat faster at the sound of it. Always people spoke to her through titles, so rarely she heard her actual name the past year, she had almost forgotten it. Jon’s hands cupped her face as hers held his wrists, they couldn't tear their eyes away from each other, feasting at each other’s sight. He did what he was allowed once and pressed a kiss on her forehead finally, wishing for so much more and knowing he was already out of boundaries with his cousin, the Queen in the North. Their eyes drifted close at the contact of his lips upon her skin, where he could guess her crown rested when worn on her fiery head.

‘Why you came up here, Sansa? What happened?’ Jon finally found the courage to ask, still struggling to believe he was talking to her after so many moons, after so long, with no fear of war upon them, no fire and no blood. Sansa sighed and they finally broke away from each other, the world resumed around them as Sansa held the answers to his question. She reached in the inside of her cloak’s pocket, bringing out two scrolls of parchment in her gloved hand, like the ones he had read from her, yet only one had the Stark seal on, the other had a three-eyed Raven, Bran. 

Jon looked up at Sansa’s sapphire blue eyes, focusing only on her, ignoring Tyrion Lannister’s bowed head in the background, ignoring everyone and focusing on Sansa. He felt the unease building in his belly, deep down knowing what these scrolls meant. She finally smiled at him, at the edge of the smile, sadness loomed, something was indeed wrong, out there in the world, something was amiss, something terrible enough to force her up to Castle Black, to him, her hand was outstretched, the scrolls in it. 

‘Your pardons, from the Six Kingdoms and the North. From Bran and myself.’ Sansa finally spoke, ‘You’re a free man again, Jon. We return home.’ Sansa announced and his jaw set, his lips forming a straight line at the lack of explanation. He knew her eyes, like he knew the wall and the night, she was afraid, distressed, she was unsettled. 

He felt anger and frustration rising up within him, suffocating him. He had volunteered to take the black the first time, to clean the Starks from the shame, to find a purpose in his life. He had done what he had thought was the right thing, and he had died for it. He had fought other people’s wars, even her wars, he had won against the night and he had stopped Daenerys Targaryen before Westeros could drawn in dragonfire, and he had been punished for it, he had accepted his fate, he had accepted his doom, decided for him, without him, without even a trial. His life spared only because of her and Arya. Now they were unrooting him again, and whoever had thought of it, for whatever reason, they had chosen her to do the filthy job, because whoever did that knew, they knew he wouldn’t be able to deny her. She was the only living person in Westeros he’d yield to and she was right there, playing along, pardoning a man without honor, hoping to parade him through the North and maybe even South for whatever motive. He was furious. 

He reached for her hand but didn’t take the scrolls, instead, he grasped at her wrist and started walking swiftly. The courtyard filled with gasps at the gesture but no sword were drawn to defend the Queen as Sansa glanced at her soldiers, assuring them it was alright. Everyone knew Jon Snow would never hurt Sansa Stark. She allowed him to pull at her hand, drag her towards the stairs and up to the Lord Commander’s office. She yearned for the moment they’d finally speak -or rather scream - at each other over everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course we'd have a jonsa disagreement building, sorry for cutting it off like this, the next chapter will give us all the things the two need to speak, scream and whisper at each other in order to fix their relationship, thoughts on this one? I wanted to focus on them as players still, even if the game of thrones has ended, they played a game for so long it'd be impossible for them not to think like in the old times, to try and predict the outcomes, they have been through so much and I don't want them as naive idiots, many times portrayed as such in the show  
> comments are love <3


	6. Pardon & Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here is a quick update as chaps 5 and 6 were supposed to be one, this one is big and finally the reunion and its aftermath are posted, I hope you all liked it, I wanted everything added, I wanted it angsty I wanted them both to admit failure and triumphs, I can't wait for your opinions!!!

_ Chapter Six - Pardon and Blame _

 

The door shut with force behind them as Jon brought Sansa inside his office, dimly lit by the daylight outside. He let go of her hand, for a moment, he felt the guilt burning up inside him at grabbing her like that, he had once promised to protect her, he hadn’t meant to hurt her, not like other men had, not in the slightest, not ever. Yet she wore the cold mask she always had on when angry as she refused to rub her wrist. Instead, she slammed the pardons on his desk, her eyes lingering on the scrolls still on it, sent from her own hand long ago. She had allowed him to drag her up there, knowing he’d never hurt her, pushing away all the reflexes to run , her spine straightened as he turned and faced her.

‘What is the reason of these pardons, Sansa? Pardons you know I cannot accept.’ his voice was angry, hoping not to fight with her. 

‘The pleasure of seeing you is all mine, Jon, trully,’ she retorted as angrily and he huffed and moved forward, towards her, stopping an inch from her slender form. 

‘Why you’re here?’ he demanded again, patient with her fiery temper, furious at her raging eyes. 

‘Because you’re done being punished for a crime that was not a crime,’ Sansa replied defiantly, making him snort and look away from her for the first time ever since they saw each other again. 

‘I killed a Queen,’ his words made her angry, so very much that she actually raised a hand and pointed her finger at his chest to make him look at her, she had a history of slapping cousins, but she wouldn’t, not yet. 

‘You killed a  _ tyrant  _ that was ready to burn us all,’ she demanded back, exasperated, hurt that he still felt the need to punish himself over the Dragon Queen, she had her ghosts and it seemed like he had his own. ‘When Tyrion told you of your sentence, did he tell you how the Six Kingdoms chose Bran for King?’ Sansa suddenly asked and Jon shook his head, not sure where her cunning mind was taking him with her words. 

‘They had been convinced after Tyrion spoke of stories being powerful,’ Sansa explained and Jon looked at her, still in question. ‘There are stories about you, across the North and the rest of Westeros, the King Beyond the Wall, the One who died and came back, the Saviour from the Night, the Dragon Slayer, the Liberator.’ Sansa spoke the words with pride, pride that stung in stark contrast with the feelings of guilt and pain he felt. ‘You like it or not, you did the right thing, and the people -at least most of them- salute you for it.’ Sansa added and Jon sighed in frustration, he hated the flicker of comfort her words caused him.

‘This is not a place for a Queen,’ he said, turning his head to look down at her finger that woke fire where it touched and then up to her cold, furious eyes, he decided to dodge her words, unable to counter the truth in them. 

‘Nor for a King,’ she retorted back and he sighed and shut his eyes, she still considered him worthy, it made his gut twist in guilt and shame. 

‘I’m not a King, Sansa,’ Jon replied biting, he had been King once, he had been the rightful heir of the Iron Throne and the free men considered him the closest thing they could have to a King, yet he was nothing. He had always wanted to be a Stark, he hated being a Targaryen, he was both and neither, he was Jon Snow and he had intended on dying thus even if he was not even that anymore. 

‘Of course you’re not,’ Sansa decided to push harder, seeing him frown at her confirmation. ‘Of course you’re not!’ she shouted the same words. ‘You’re not a King because you bent the knee to a Targaryen Queen!’ she shouted, unable to contain herself. ‘You killed the bloody madwoman and left me with the North in my hands, making me a Queen without my consent!’ Sansa was openly shouting her frustration. 

‘You declared the North Independent in the Dragonpit, Sansa, not I!’ he screamed back, unable to accept that part was his fault, everything else, yes, but not this, that had been her victory. These was something sweetly familiar in all this, screaming at each other, only now they weren’t just screaming over strategies or opinions, they were screaming over their destroyed lives. 

‘I reached the Dragonpit, to save you, to bring you back to your kingdom, a kingdom  _ I  _ kept united until you were back, with or without your Dragon Queen!’ Sansa accused harshly, her eyes stung with tears of frustration. She had hoped their reunion would have been peaceful, but how could it have been with so many things left unsaid between them.  ‘I found the Northern Armies you had brought there and without you, they bowed down to me. I ended up returning to the North without you!’ Sansa screamed back. ‘Without their King, the least I could do was to bring back their independence or else our House would count days until the Northern Lords could revolt against me!’ Sansa added, her voice breaking, making Jon remain gasping before her. ‘I had asked you one question and you never answered, instead you had questioned my faith in you and I had answered honestly.’ Sansa’s voice was lower as she spoke, seeing the opening to his defenses.

‘Did you bend the knee for the North or because you had truly loved her? I deserve to know.’ she demanded, her eyes flickering with something Jon didn’t dare identify. She indeed deserved to know, he had played the game on his own terms, behind her back, her life one of the pawns he had moved, one of the pawns he had lost although he had only hoped to keep her protected, it had all backfired on his face, and hers too. He had taken her choice, her armies, her home, gave it to another, hoping they would be enough to save her life, thank Gods, old and new, she had been a player too, and gained it all back for herself. They had been lost in a torrent of lies and deception, now that it was all said and done, she deserved to know indeed. 

‘The North is part of me, and I bestowed it to you, I did it all for the North...’ Jon finally replied as they stood before each other, heaving breaths and staring down at each other. ‘I had promised to protect you, Sansa,’ he added, his voice hoarse. ‘Where would  _ we  _ go? After the Night was defeated, yet Daenerys was raging on, over the North with her Dragons, where would  _ we  _ go?’ he asked her, echoing the words he once had spoken in that very same castle. 

‘You had spoken of trust among each other once,’ she trembled as she spoke the words, still accusing, unable to accept the meaning of his. He hadn’t done it all for her, she refused to believe that and what it implied, for if she was mistaken, the hurt would be something she couldn’t withstand, not after what life had given her so far.

‘And I betrayed that trust by playing the game behind your back, hoping I would come out of it a winner, we would all survive the night, and we did, you had been protected.’ Jon admitted, his eyes sad as he kept her tearful gaze, his own admission was cathartic for her, he hoped. ‘But I got myself lost in the game, in the lies and the deception. And then I had to somehow protect you over it all,’ Jon explained further. ‘Why do you think I agreed on taking the armies away from the North while they were not ready?’ Jon asked her, his hands turning into fists at the memory of his fallen strategies, his fallen honour. What is honour before the love of a woman, his own love for that woman? He pushed away the thought as he kept talking, explaining all the things he knew she deserved to know. ‘When we fully knew the Golden Company charged Cersei Lannister by the hour, why do you think I agreed to lead Daenerys South immediately?’ Jon asked again and Sansa gulped down before answering. 

‘Why?’ she asked to know, her voice a whisper, their bodies barely apart. 

‘Because I had to take her away from you, I had to protect you, and you made it so hard for me, Sansa... always going against her, provoking the beast…’ Jon trailed off at the memory of all the times he had gotten between the two women, seemingly siding with Daenerys when all he did was shield Sansa.  ‘By the time we marched South, I had lost the game. I intended to stay in the South, with her, in order to keep you safe in the North… I had to salvage what was left of your life, of you.’ his words were met with the first tears falling from her eyes, they both didn’t dare touch each other, it had been moments before they had shared a hug, now they felt barely able to keep eye contact.  ‘I was tired of fighting, I had hoped to fight and lose to avoid facing you like I am now..’ Jon explained, his hands aching to take away the tears, he didn’t dare, they had stopped screaming a long time ago. 

‘Why…’ the word escaped her lips but she was unable to say more as he went on, she allowed him, he needed the redemption, he needed to take the poison out of his bones. 

‘The day we lost Rickon, I realized you were right. I had to move in ways others wouldn’t expect me to.’ Jon declared, making her realize why she couldn’t make any sense of his actions from Dragonstone and onwards, he had played the game she taught him, only he had fooled her as well. ‘You had begged me to be smarter, and I had tried to be,’ he added as she gathered away her tears angrily. 

_‘Who manipulated whom?’_ The memory of Daenerys’ honest question shook Sansa to the core as she remained to look at Jon with eyes wide, unable to say a word as the realization washed over her. In a twisted way, she felt proud of him finally listening to her, otherwise they’d have been under the Night King and all this wouldn’t matter. Both the Queen in the North and the Dragon Queen had their suspicions of what the Crow King was doing, yet both had been right, and both had been wrong.

Crows lie, the thought had her cry out in anger.

Jon found himself raising his arms to grasp at Sansa’s hands as she started hitting her fists against his chest, she was wailing in her anger. Her fists barely shook his chest, although her wrists had already felt sore he was sure, yet with every fist she was allowed against him, he felt as if she stabbed him, like he once had been stabbed to death. He allowed her fists until she was spent and panting against him, his arms having slipped up her arms as she sobbed against him and he set his head above her head, his own tears trailed down his beard as they calmed against each other.

‘You should have told me, we were together in this.’ Sansa alleged, feeling the betrayal hot in her belly, along the relief, the comfort. She tried to yank herself free from his jerkin, he held her close to him until she gave up. His presence so close to her felt suffocating, she endured as she missed his arms around her. He had betrayed her like other men, and he had saved her, keeping his vow to her like no other.

‘By the time I was back, Varys and his birds, Tyrion Lannister and so many foreigners were with me, I was afraid to utter a word, I had no idea who could come in the night and snatch you away, while I placated Daenerys. I… I was scared I would lose you, I prefered your hatred than losing you altogether.’ Jon explained as he looked down at her, they were dangerously close to each other, for a moment he glanced at Sansa’s lips, and it was when he remembered her own betrayal. ‘I trusted you with the North, with the truth of my parentage, but you broke that trust by talking to Tyrion.’ he added and this time they broke their embrace as another open wound started bleeding between them. Sansa looked at him, her gaze only half apologising. 

‘You were driving me insane, with your ways, with your actions, with your words,’ Sansa accused, trying to hide the shame of betraying him. ‘I wanted you in the North, safe and by my side,’ Sansa added, trying to explain herself without giving away the truth, a truth that could shatter their fragile reunion. ‘Every time men of my family travelled South, they never returned, I had to somehow protect you,’ Sansa’s words were calm, calculated, rehearsed for the past days on her way to the Wall, she had prepared for his disdain and anger to her betrayal. ‘She could have killed a bastard, former Warden of the North who bent the knee, but she couldn’t kill her nephew, the rightful Heir to the Iron Throne. I trusted Tyrion to speak with Varys and he’d do the rest.’ Sansa added and Jon sighed, not sure if he felt angrier or comforted at her plain admission. Daenerys had once told him Sansa was equally to blame for Varys’ perish, but Varys had made his choices, based on the information he knew, they all had made their choices. ‘From all these Southern traitors, at least Varys had the prosperity of the Realm at heart. I hoped he’d spread the word so you could be saved, so everyone could. And you were, at the dragonpit, you were saved only because everyone knew of the truth. If you were just mine and Arya’s bastard brother, you’d be sentenced to death even before we could reach King’s Landing. Names have power, people could remember only Arya’s final blow to the Night King and forget about her bastard brother’s deeds to save us all. But no one forgot of Jon Sno...Aegon Targaryen’s sacrifice against his own blood to save Westeros.’ Sansa’s words kept him silent, he could see her regret at hurting him and her determination to stand her ground before her actions. 

‘I preferred your hatred than losing you altogether.’ she echoed his words and he closed the gap between them again, his hands back on her forearms as she stood unmoving. ‘I understand why you hadn’t forgiven me before you could leave for White Harbor.’ Sansa’s words finally betrayed her pain, he drank in it although she was mistaken. 

‘I forgave you that day, by calling you the best thing the North could have asked for, as it’s a part of me… all your actions, I took you did for the North and I accepted that, forgave you for it,’ Jon added and Sansa shook her head as she looked down at her own body, he followed her gaze and only then he realized she was wearing the blue dress with the wolf bit he had liked, seemingly a lifetime ago. ‘It hadn’t been only for the North…’ she heard her voice forming the words, without her will, ‘I had done it for you,’ she repeated her intention, relief swept over her for the forgiveness she had received without realizing it back then. She raised her eyes to see him already looking down at her, his eyes glancing at her lips for the second time in the course of their argument. They had changed so much, twisted and transformed that they hadn’t even recognized each other but now the fog was disappearing. 

 

‘Why?’ she asked this time firmer and he only blinked, waiting. ‘Why her?’ she finally asked the question she once had, only now she asked the right man. Jon’s hands tightened around her forearms and she hoped, she begged the Gods she wouldn’t be let down, she hoped she had been right in her darkest, most secret thought about him. 

It was right there, in between their gazes as light blue and dark grey melted with each other. The truth, the terror of it all, the feelings that had sinful blossomed between siblings, and the feelings that could be forgiven -even allowed as custom- among cousins. 

‘Because of you,’ he finally replied. ‘In hopes of getting over you...my sister, the girl I grew up with, the shame was eating me alive and I had hoped -’ Jon’s words were cut off as Sansa pressed her body against his, her lips finding his in a kiss he couldn’t possibly deny as his arms wrapped around her, grasping and holding as he responded hungrily. Her own arms engulfed him, the feelings of anger had shifted to pain, to betrayal and to elevation, to passion and need. Sansa tried to show through her inexperienced lips all that she wanted him to know. Their tongues danced against each other, his hands touched her hips and her ribs and up her arms and neck until he cupped the back of her head, keeping her in place as her own hands grasped at his dark locks and touched his neck, for a few precious moments, they allowed themselves to the kiss, the only moments Castle Black fell into silence at last. 

They broke the kiss eventually, resting their foreheads against each other, their breaths brushing against their lips, eyes drifted close, savoring the moment. There was no way back from there. 

‘Since when?’ he requested breathlessly, he needed to know. 

‘Since here, our first reunion, since the day I saw you again,’ Sansa admitted shamelessly. She had fallen in love with him even before she could know what love meant, she still hadn’t experienced it fully. She wondered if she was still able to feel it,  she had turned from porcelain to ivory to, steel. 

‘Aye,’ Jon confirmed with eyes closed. ‘Same with me, in the nights we spoke before the hearth, in the nights you tried ale and we laughed, in the nights we prepared to take back Winterfell,’ he confirmed when it all started for him. ‘I knew what it was, I hated myself for feeling like that for you. I was not a Lannister, and I wasn’t a Targaryen to bed my sister…’ Jon said bitterly this time. ‘The irony of it huh?’ he wondered as he held her tighter in his arms. Sansa shook her head and put a finger against his lips. They had been Northern fools, for each other and before the Gods, old or new, they had been played cruelly. 

‘It’s different now, we can start over… if you wish.’ Sansa offered but Jon looked back at her eyes. She had never answered his primal question. 

‘I… I do.’ he whispered and she finally smiled at him, for the first time in such a long time, he cupped her face in his arms, he needed to know of the cloud of fear that lingered in her eyes. ‘But why now? Why you’re here now, Sansa?’ he asked and Sansa’s smile faded and she sighed as she remained in his arms, their comfort was something she could certainly get accustomed to, something she needed desperately. 

‘I had wanted to pardon you first thing after my coronation.’ Sansa started, he was sure she had made the pardon as soon as she had set down her crown, the thought touched his heart. ‘But I knew the Unsullied were still settling in Naath, along the Dothraki, Yara Greyjoy was still furious and Bran needed time to establish his reign over the Six. I needed to rebuild our home and you needed time for yourself. I knew us that much, so I gave us time, I gave everyone time to heal, I gave time for the people to spread their stories and make their new songs, of the Dragon who burnt and died, for the Crow King who saved them all and got exiled, for the crippled child king, for the She-wolf who would die alone in the snow…’ Sansa explained and Jon sighed. 

‘These are depressing songs,’ he observed and Sansa actually chuckled at his words and nodded, making him smile as well. 

‘But Bran sent Tyrion to speak with me,’ Sansa added, calculating Jon’s frown. Tyrion who had betrayed his vows to the Night’s Watch, his own sister, Tyrion who had killed his father and lover, his queen, betrayed the South for the North and the North for the South, who had fled to Essos and brought fire and blood to Westeros. Tyrion who currently served as Hand for Bran the Broken. ‘Bran has found Drogon,’ Sansa finally added and Jon was pulled away from his anger and distrust of the dwarf as terror gripped at his heart, his hands tightening around Sansa in instinct. 

The dragon’s screech over Winterfell and King’s Landing, the destruction it caused as his mother rode him,  the heat of his fire as he burnt the Iron Throne instead of Jon himself in the Red Keep. ‘Two more eggs have hatched…’ Sansa added and Jon could remain agape at her words, looking wildly at her eyes, they spoke the truth. ‘Obviously Valyria has many secrets, and as far as we know, Daenerys had raised the dragons in instinct,’ Sansa added and Jon nodded. ‘Obviously not doing a great work as she couldn’t always control them and counting on how she lost two so easily.’ Sansa added bitterly but all Jon could think of was the beasts returning, for the realm, for him, for Sansa. Drogon was a creature of magic, many believed dragons were smarter than humans, if so, they were in danger because of Daenerys’ assassination by his hand. A new wave of guilt started rolling within his stomach as he looked down at Sansa’s bright eyes, he had hoped the nightmare would end with Daenerys, he had been mistaken. 

‘Bran is the knowledge of the world, Jon, he sees the past, he knows how the old Targaryens tame the beasts. He wants you to prepare with him, in case the dragons come again. We need to be prepared this time because they will be too, especially Drogon.’ Sansa finally explained the reason, showing him there was a way for them, for him to prepare, they were not helpless. 

‘I…’ Jon tried to say something but Sansa nodded, guessing he doubted if he could be taught to tame a beast as that one. 

‘I know, but Bran is not just a human anymore, he knows how to show you the truth for the beasts. And I… I need you back home, with me,’ Sansa added, Jon sighed and caressed her cheek with his calloused fingers. 

‘What of the Unsullied, the Dothraki and Greyjoy? They could all march along the dragons to King’s Landing the moment they hear of my return.’ Jon whispered his fear, he’d rather die than cause war upon the Realms, not again. 

‘They wouldn’t be able to control, guide or even speak to the beasts… only you can, it’s in your blood.’ Sansa explained as she caressed his wrist, her fingers brushing against his veins there before she could lean and plant a kiss on his palm, making him breath deeply at her sight. ‘Yara has been settled, the armies are far away, finding new leaders for themselves and moving on, just like Westeros. Essos too is regaining strength and commercial ties through Dorne with the rest.’ Sansa informed him of all the developments across the continent and beyond. ‘But even if they did, there would be war, and still it wouldn’t be as awful as three dragons spreading destruction across both Essos and Westeros, that they can all be sensible enough to understand.’ Sansa added and Jon sighed. 

‘I don’t want anyone to die because of me, or the bloody dragons,’ he expressed dreadfully and Sansa nodded as she held the hand that was on her cheek, she dared put it against the wolf of her dress on the chest, Jon gasped at the contact on her body. 

‘At our hearts, we’re Starks,’ Sansa whispered, he could feel her heart thundering beneath his palm. ‘Only your heart pumps Targaryen blood through it,’ Sansa was honest, even if it hurt him, no more lies and no more fears. ‘You are the only one who can stop the dragons, Jon,’ She added and he sighed and nodded, he hated his Targaryen side and what brought with him, the magic, the claim, the fire and blood. A Targaryen alone in the world  was a terrible thing he had discovered and Sansa knew that as well.

‘You’re a Stark,’ Sansa insisted, as if she could read his thoughts. He looked at her with doubt in his eyes, she nodded her head. ‘You had taken vows here once, have you repeated them?’ she wondered, Jon shook his head as an honest answer. 

‘I felt like there was no reason to, there was no danger to guard the realm of men from.’ Jon’s deep voice explained. ‘I also felt I had no honor to take a vow again,’ he added with hurt in his voice and Sansa this time cupped his own face, making him focus on her. 

‘You’re honourable and good,’ she encouraged the truth on him, ‘Like so many before and after you, you made choices, made human mistakes and fought to make up for them.’ Sansa added and finally moved away from him, they both missed the closeness, the comfort of each other’s presence, they dreaded the cold. She reached for the scrolls and outstretched her hand to him once again. 

Jon hesitated, Sansa nodded. 

‘You’re a free man, and a Stark,’ Sansa declared and Jon looked at her in wonder.

_ ‘Jon doesn’t have the Stark Name,’ Davos had once pointed out. _

_ ‘No, but I do,’ Sansa had replied in the same tone  _

‘I… Sansa, what are you doing?’ he tried but she shook her head, suddenly her regal mask back on her face. 

‘I do what honor demands…’ Sansa explained, her voice clear, queenly. ‘You once vowed your life to the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow, you served and died for it. Your watch has long ended.’ Sansa announced. ‘I pardon your deeds along the King of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros Bran the Broken,’ Sansa added and Jon bowed his head at her words. He knew what she was doing, he had seen a Queen legitimizing a bastard before, in a game of politics so long ago. If Daenerys had the time, she would have done the same with him as well, stripping him of his Targaryen claim to the throne and at the same time destroying Sansa’s power over the North.

‘And as Queen in the North, I legitimize you as what you always were, for the Starks and the North, my dominion, from this day forward, you are Jon Stark.’ Sansa added and Jon didn’t have the time to express his shock as she went on. ‘From this day forward, you come to Winterfell, as Warden of the North, by your Queen’s side,’ Sansa added and Jon’s eyes widened, he never wanted to be King and she never wanted to be Queen Regent but they were of royal blood, that had been accepted by both and everyone. Starks always had to be in Winterfell and Sansa had found a position for both of them, ruling together would come easier, like it had been when they ruled the first time. She had no martial experience, she needed a Warden, he was certain the Northern Lords must had been circling her like wolves for the position and favor. ‘After your resurrection, you promised to take care of me, to protect me,’ Sansa went on, making him nod. ‘From this day forward you’re also appointed the Lord Commander of my Queensguard,’ Sansa added and Jon could only stare at her and nod, there was no need for him to object her order and will. He finally withdrew Longclaw and presented the blade to her, not kneeling as she had requested of him, regaining his honor and finding a new Duty, through his Love for her.

Family, Duty, Honour. Half her blood sang with them, and he would sing along, for her.

‘I pledge my blade, my life and faith in you, Sansa of House Stark, as Warden of the North, as your protector. I , Jon Stark, pledge my life at your service, my Queen,’ his voice was steady as Sansa watched him pledge his loyalty to her and their house, using his deserved name, calling her what he used to call Daenerys, Sansa chased away her ghost like she did with the rest that plunged her for the past months and she finally smiled at Jon, nodding her head as he lowered his blade. He placed his sword back to its case close to him as she set down the scrolls. Formalities, titles, declarations and vows, all exchanged between two people who only needed each other. 

And they found each other, as Jon hugged Sansa once again, tightly to his chest, and as she cuddled her cheek against his, they remained hugged and content before they could share another kiss. 

They had so many challenges ahead of them, so many new battles to fight, but they were not alone anymore, the pack would survive. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yes!!!! they fought and they screamed and shouted and Sansa even hit him with her fists and he held her until she was done and they kissed and the truth is out!!!!!!! I loved making this chapter, it was all I ever wanted in the series with the two talking to each other and revealing it all, pol!jon, jonsa and sacrificial!jon, and she pardoned him, made him Jon Stark, who he always wanted to be, who he always was to her and Warden of the North as he would never take her power again and be King....I hope I did justice to them both as they deserved it a million times. Thank you very much for reading, PLEASE COMMENT? I'd love to know what you think of it, thank you!


	7. Of Guards and Suitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the super positive reaction to the previous chapter, I'm so glad people like my work, my first attempt at jonsa is sweet and loved and I'm so humbled by your responses, here is a new chapter, I'm taking my sweet time with this as I wish to work slowly through the characters, most of the story has been outlined for me but we'll go through it all slowly as I enjoy making their relationship evolve

_ Chapter Seven - Of Guards and Suitors _

 

The Queen and the Warden of the North came to an abrupt halt the moment Jon opened the door of his office, revealing two very tall figures staring at each other in tension, both blocking the corridor that led outside to the shorter Starks. 

Brienne and Tormund were staring at each other, one wearing a face of discomfort while the other one of triumph, their bodies separated by a mere inch. Sansa and Jon remained to look up at the two warriors as finally, they broke their staring contest and turned to look at the two Starks. Brienne bowed slightly as she looked at Sansa and presented a scroll that the young Queen took with her lithe fingers. Sansa looked at her old sworn shield before she could look at the scroll. 

‘It just arrived from Winterfell, your Grace.’ Brienne offered and Sansa nodded, wondering what was so urgent that had to follow her all the way to the Wall, her stomach turned at the thought of something going wrong while she was away, that had been the first time she left Winterfell ever since her coronation and she had left for Jon. She pushed down the worry within her as she spoke to the Knight with a steady voice. 

‘I suppose the walls of the office are thin?’ Sansa requested to know if she had been heard legitimizing and honoring Jon with his identity and titles. Brienne nodded as Tormund grinned and Sansa smiled while Jon glanced at her. ‘Then would you be so kind as to inform my delegation and ask Maester Wolkan to prepare letters for me to sign and send across the North and to King’s Landing? My Lords and my brother need to be informed of Jon Stark’s legitimated return.’ Sansa tried the new name in her tongue and smiled at Jon as he bowed his head after glancing at Tormund ’s encouraging face and Brienne’s content one. 

‘Of course, my Queen,’ Brienne bowed stiffly as she glanced at Tormund who almost growled at her movement. Sansa was certain the Knight was glad she was excused, always awkward around the lovestruck wildling. Both she and Jon looked at Tormund , waiting for him to explain why he was standing behind the door. The large man shrugged and grinned as he grabbed Jon to his chest for a bear hug. 

‘I just wanted to make sure yur queen wouldn’t kill ya with her bare hands. It’s abou’ bloody time you leave this place and go where ya belong!’ Tormund offered happily and Jon chuckled, for the first time in weeks if not months and patted his best friend’s back before they could break away. Tormund looked at Sansa with happy eyes, the freefolk kept no formalities for royalty bellow the Wall but it was evident Sansa was respected by the man. 

‘I hope you know… your Grace, we won’t accept him back a third time, now he’s coming with you,’ Tormund joked and Sansa grinned, just like Jon, for the first time in a long time. 

‘I so hope he stays with me, Tormund ,’ Sansa replied, her eyes traveling to Jon and lingering there, their lips were still swollen from their kisses, their hearts still racing for each other. Tormund frowned as he glanced between them, after a few moments realisation struck him, his brows shot up so high on his face they almost reached his ginger hairline.

‘Aye, alright,’ he said awkwardly as the two Starks kept looking at each other, he cleared his throat in vain and retreated, mumbling something about bringing ale to celebrate that night as Sansa and Jon kept their gazes locked. Their bodies screamed with things evident, yet unsaid, undone, tension rising between them was a current they had been used on feeling, they finally allowed themselves to feed on it, like hungry wolves. 

There was a loud cheering from somewhere down the stairs, the Northern bannermen and soldiers had probably learnt of Jon’s restoration. The sound broke the spell between the two and had Sansa smile at Jon’s relief as he glanced down at the courtyard, his new name was heard with joy over some men, some grateful men still out of sight. 

‘I told you they’d be happy to have you back,’ Sansa offered and Jon smiled and nodded his head finally, looking at the scroll in her hands. She had almost forgotten about it but brought it between them and opened the royal seal of their house. She read it quickly and sighed in relief, Jon hadn’t had the time to read it as it was upside-down for him and he didn’t recognize the handwriting. 

‘We must head back to Winterfell the soonest.’ Sansa explained and Jon frowned his brows.

‘Is everything alright?’ he asked and she nodded but avoided his eyes for a moment, looking over the courtyard. 

‘It is… we’ll have royal guests, if we leave at the morrow we’ll be arriving two days before them.’ Sansa explained and Jon nodded, not sure what caused her discomfort. ‘I’ll make another letter for Bran too, he needs to know of the royal visit, in case he hasn’t seen it or hasn’t been informed.’ Sansa mostly spoke her thoughts and Jon nodded. 

‘Who are the royal guests?’ he asked and Sansa looked back at him. 

‘My cousin, Robin Arryn,’ Sansa replied simply but Jon kept looking at her, urging her on. ‘He’s visiting with his entire delegation…. Bearing gifts from the Vale. He offered a lot during Winterfell’s restoration. I suppose Yohn Royce will be with him as well,’ Sansa elaborated uneasily and Jon could feel the churn of annoyance rising within him. He had been raised in a royal household, even as the bastard of it, he knew what some gestures meant. Sansa sighed as she looked up at him. ‘I’m in a difficult position…’ she added, almost apologetically. ‘The first woman to rule the North, the Vale used to be under my command, but after the Great Council, I had to give it back to him. He was of age and finally able, for our mothers’ memory, ever since the North and the Vale kept their traditional tight relations.’ Sansa added, almost babbling her words, Jon’s jaw set, he hated to admit it was jealousy that ate up at him. 

‘How tight?’ he grumbled and Sansa this time glared at him for a moment before she could sigh and shake her head. 

‘I have received proposes from lordlings from all over Westeros…’ Jon fought hard to stop the glare at the truth she gave him so simply. ‘But I’m afraid this will be the first of a High Lord from one of the Six Kingdoms to actually propose marriage to me. They all wish to tie the North back to Westeros,’  Sansa’s voice made Jon feel a little better at the sound of her own annoyance and exasperation. ‘Many Lords see the Vale as the linking chain between the North and the Six, the Neck becoming a natural border between our kingdom and Bran’s territory.’ Sansa added and Jon restrained himself from speaking harshly. She had referred to the North as their own kingdom, she was its liberator. Sansa looked pointedly at Jon. ‘The Northern Lords however see this as a chain around our necks.’ Sansa added and Jon nodded, he was a Northern Lord ever since a few moments ago and he seconded that. ‘And I see it the same way,’ Sansa’s words finally settled the churning fire within his body. ‘Yet they put pressure upon me to get married, pretending to be fatherly figures...wishing a man -preferably some Northman from their loins- can put a leash on me….’ Jon made the separating step that kept them apart, his eyes glancing at the courtyard, making sure no one saw them as not to compromise her honour in any way, he looked back at her bright blue eyes.

‘I… I don’t want you to marry... not to Robin, not to anyone else,’ Jon whispered the words that wished he could scream out loud to the Wall and across the world. He felt like he had that right, her lips had been pressed against his a few moments before, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her heart given to him a long time ago even if he accepted it just that day, like she did with his. The idea of a man marrying her, bedding her, making her his made him sick. Sansa’s eyes couldn’t leave his as she kept his gaze locked with hers, her front was touching his, she felt her breath hitched in her throat.

‘I don’t want to marry Robin…. or anyone else, either,’ she whispered the words, either of them daring to add to these sentences. She cleared her throat, duty and honour calling her back to her cunning methods. ‘But I need to refuse in a way that won’t create tension with the Vale.... I need to refuse without causing our people to suffer.’ she added and Jon this time touched her elbows with his hands, she rested her own hands on his waist as they held each other gingerly, any moment someone could see them, they had to keep things quiet for everyone’s sake, at least for now. 

‘We’ll return, organize the North and speak to them of priorities, you’re still young and need to establish your rule…. Marriage can wait,’ Jon offered and Sansa could see the way he had worked around Daenerys. She nodded her head, although doubt ate at her.

‘Other women my age have children,’ she countered with one of the arguments the Lords had been giving her for the past months of her reign. Jon cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch, needing the comfort, knowing he was to stand by her side from now on, in councils and every time strangers would try to corner her, he would be by her side. 

‘Other women your age don’t have kingdoms to rule....’ Jon offered softly and she nodded. ‘We’ll tell them that, every time someone will approach,’ Jon added and Sansa chuckled. 

‘Until I’m old and infertile? Ready to appoint my heir?’ Sansa asked, almost teasingly and Jon smiled and shrugged. 

‘You’ll be the most beautiful and smart, old and infertile Queen across the continent,’ Jon offered and for a moment Sansa remembered Olenna Tyrrell, she chuckled at the idea. Once, old age and cunning crones would scare and repulse her, now she admired their strength to reach that old age and wisdom, sick and tired in a world of men but so powerful and full of weapons against them all. ‘But you don’t have to grow old alone… you don’t have to appoint an heir...’ Jon’s words left his lips without him realizing the inner urgency to express them. 

Both looked at each other in a moment that stretched long and silent. They had found each other only that morning and already they had changed their lives forever, they were thrown into a sea of new waters, and wolves didn’t make good swimmers. They had to go slow or their burning desire would scourge them both and maybe jeopardize their kingdom in the process. They needed time and they needed preparation. The only other solution would have been to fake their deaths and run for beyond the Wall, Tormund would help. They broke the eye contact, sighing, fighting off the desire for each other, for the future in common, in vain. Sansa finally raised her head and looked at him once again, Jon smiled almost shyly after the bold, yet true words that had left his mouth. 

‘Let us first go back to Winterfell, you need to get back to our home. From there, we’ll figure everything out, we’ll communicate with Bran too, see how he wishes to proceed himself.’ Sansa finally slowed down their plans to a normal pace, for both of them, and everyone to gather their heads around the new facts. The North had a new Warden, its old King, by the current Queen’s side, that only would cause an upstir, happy or not, an upstir for sure. 

‘I will serve you as I promised, and to start with that, I would like to meet the Queensguard, who is the head of it?’ Jon offered the first practical solution he could give before they could be back in Winterfell from where he’d take care of everything military, maybe order a swift attack on the Vale, he’d never admit such thought to Sansa. At the young queen’s blush, Jon frowned in disbelief. She looked up at him with a smile that reminded him so much of the young girl he had reunited with in that very courtyard that was devoid of her queensguard. ‘You don’t have a queensguard….’ Jon pointed out and Sansa looked at him with shameful guilt written all over her face. 

‘Didn’t have time to assemble one…’ She mumbled quietly and this time Jon’s eyebrows shot up in shock. Smart, cunning and calculating Sansa Stark strolled around the North, the first woman of her position, without a guard for an entire year. ‘Well the North was a priority, Winterfell’s storages wouldn’t be filled with food if I focused on my queensguard….’ As if she had read his mind, Sansa tried to defend her actions, or rather lack of them, Jon nodded his head, challenging.

‘They wouldn’t be filled if you had been murdered in your sleep, either, Sansa. On the contrary, chaos would have ensued and the storages would burn during a war of succession.’ he pointed out and this time the young queen didn’t dare question who could want her dead, she wasn’t naive. There was a dagger beneath her pillow back in her chamber for those reasons. Ubers, Karstarks, Yara Greyjoy, spies from Essos. Lords who hated a woman on the throne of the North, a woman once married to a Lannister and Ramsay Bolton. There was a list of enemies and all kept Sansa awake at night. If it was her fate, she always hoped it’d be quick assasination, no rape and no torture before it. She sighed and Jon hadn’t missed the cloud that darkened her beautiful eyes. He knew, and he had promised. ‘Alright, alright, I’ll assemble your guard the moment we’re back, before anything else, before the arrival of your suitor,’ he couldn’t help but almost spat the last word, annoyed by the idea of men pursuing her, certainly with charm and royal gifts, in which both, Jon lacked greatly. Sansa actually chuckled and nodded her own head. 

‘Thank you… for prioritizing,’ she teased the last word in response and he faked a glare before he could nod at the men who showed up in the courtyard, breaking the privacy they had shared until then. ‘Will you be hosting us tonight? At your last night as…’ Sansa trailed off as Jon nodded his head, surprised he eased at the idea of leaving, as long as he left with her. 

‘I’m no Lord Commander but yes, I know where the food and ale are, and they listen to me when I ask them to help set the table, so yes, we’ll have a small feast tonight,’ Jon offered and Sansa nodded, she remembered the Castle Black wasn’t famous for the food, she was glad she had brought enough not to burden the limited storages on the northern post. ‘If you expect some ball music, Tormund can sing about sucking at a giant’s tit,’ Jon added, provoking shock from her at his language, challenging her. Sansa only wrinkled her nose and laughed, the sound was music to his ears. 

‘No thank you,’ she said with a smile on her face, he grinned back at her, she felt familiar, comforting, rejuvenating.    

‘Oh but I insist,’ he teased further and Sansa laughed again, her hand reaching his, even though gloved, they could feel each other’s warmth. There were people around them but there was no harm in simply embracing, so they did.

Little by little, they would find ways closer to each other, and people would get used to them as one thing, like they were used to back in the past, before Dragonstone. When the King in the North was always in the company of the Lady of Winterfell. People would slowly get used to the Queen in the North always accompanied by the Warden of the North and Commander of her Queensguard, he would lead of the armies and her own guard, she and the North would be protected as Jon had promised to take care of both. 

And little by little, they would fight the fear, the ghosts and the tender wounds and they would find each other, just as they desired. Through the love they always preserved, through the reestablished trust, currently burning between them, keeping them warm, and through the passion they only dared taste, still too afraid to fully experience, they would make it. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it, I wanted to show some things, I like writing these two challenging each other but always with good intentions and love for each other, I liked Sansa revealing not having a queensguard as she put the north before her own safety and after all yes she's smart, cunning actually but sometimes, one person cannot do everything. I hope you liked it all, I wanted to add awkward little moment between Tormund and brienne, more will be shown in the next chapter, i promise, before they leave for winterfell ;)  
> so the word is spread and next chapter Robin arrives ( I loved how he got old and proper in the council of the last episode and i think indeed the vale and the north would be strong with such union, only if it wasn't for Jon Stark ;)  
> thank you for reading, please comment with your thoughts on it?


	8. Reclaiming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh this is what happens when i have such positive reception of a chapter, a new update in less than 3 days I think? I'm proud, enjoy ;)

_ Chapter Eight - Reclaiming _

 

Jon sat on a chair and looked around him at the gathering people for dinner. There was no high table in Castle Black, among brothers, everyone was equal. The night had fallen and he had made sure there were enough candles lit around the chamber, the fire roared in the fireplace. It was the best he could do to make the place more welcoming, fit for a Queen, fit for Sansa who always liked beautiful things. 

She had offered the food that night, brought a servant along her delegation to cook for them all, she had wished to make her brief visit -first of its kind- as pleasant and unburdening as possible. Jon knew deep down she had despised the food at the Wall and had to do something about. He smiled at the warm feeling her thought provoked within him. Allowed, acknowledged to think of her in that way at last was new to him. The guilt had been taken over longing, pride, happiness, he dared to think himself happy, after so very long, its sweet taste felt unfamiliar after so long, if not ever. Her mouth’s sweet taste lingered however and he could smile and clear his throat, realising he was smiling like an idiot and people around him glanced at his direction. 

‘Happy Lords make happy kingdoms,’ Tyrion’s voice brought him out of his sweet thoughts. Jon’s smile faded complete as he looked at the short man before him, the dwarf was holding a small smile for him, Jon didn’t find it in him to return it. A year ago, they had been both prisoners, then Tyrion had led Jon to stop a crime by committing another, he had ascended to power, like he always did. While Jon paid the price for doing what was proven to be the right thing, like he always did. ‘Happy Queens make happy kingdoms last,’ Tyrion added pointedly and Jon sighed as the Lannister mentioned Sansa. Sansa, whom Tyrion cleverly used by mentioning her to Jon, showing him the way. Tyrion once had married Sansa, Jon thanked the heavens he had respected her so much as not to touch her, thus never consummating the marriage. He then had told him that he had loved Daenerys too, only Jon hadn’t loved her as Tyrion had, as everyone thought. Tyrion seemed to always be present around the highborn women who had to do with Jon, to one he served as husband, to the other as Hand. Both of them had taken their distance from him. ‘I wonder where we stand, you and me, Lord Stark,’ Tyrion finally cut to the point and Jon nodded his head and sighed. 

‘I don’t trust you,’ he said, his northern blood kicking in, wondering if his southern blood could trust him. Tyrion had plotted against everyone and still he had saved them all. ‘You betrayed kings and queens, your family, one by one and all together at once, you left for Essos… I don’t trust you,’ Jon added and Tyrion nodded and sat on the chair before Jon. Now as hand of the king, Jon could only hope Tyrion wouldn’t betray Bran the moment he’d believe the broken boy was not able to rule anymore. ‘When it’s all said and done, no matter how, I want you to stay away from Sansa,’ Jon added and Tyrion nodded, staring at the pin on his own shoulder, He felt a hot spike of jealousy within his heart at the idea of Tyrion cloaking Sansa at their wedding, staying close to her, being her husband, and at the same time he was worried about her own respect for Tyrion. Sansa valued the lack of cruelty from Tyrion despite his surname. 

Drogon was resurfacing, fire could be coming from the East, blood was coming back from the North in Jon’s face and Jon could only think of Sansa’s fate. Jon only hoped people with such divided loyalties like Tyrion would stay away from her, even if he betrayed Bran at the end. He hoped they weren’t players in Tyrion’s masterplan, he had to speak with Bran, he had to assemble the remaining members of his family, his two cousins, the King and the Queen and speak directly at them, without Tyrion and without silver tongued manipulators. Jon’s mind traveled to Arya for a moment, he hoped with all his heart she’d be there, with Needle to protect her siblings like he intended to do.

Jon was the Warden, the closest equivalent to a Hand the Northern Kings had. He was going to respect and honor the position, for the kingdom, and for Sansa. Tyrion regarded the man before him for a few moments before he nodded his head and Jon couldn’t help but spoken to him. 

‘You had told me, a year ago, that I should ask you in ten years, if it was the right thing to do.’ Jon stated and Tyrion nodded his head, his eyes distant suddenly. ‘At least for the North, it was, I’ll make sure it’ll last,’ Jon added his conclusion and Tyrion looked back at Jon. 

‘What about the rest of the Kingdoms?’ Tyrion asked and Jon frowned. 

‘You’re the hand of their King,’ Jon pointed out and Tyrion sighed. 

‘I won’t be able to stop three dragons with this little pin of mine,’ Tyrion retorted, Jon nodded, of course, Drogon and the other two beasts, they could set for Westeros any moment and Jon would be the only chance everyone had to stop them, even if he had no idea how. Old Targaryens trained their dragons and still in many cases the beasts ate family members that were not their riders. How could he possibly train the new ones and Drogon who was always loyal, the most beloved to Daenerys? 

He fought the desperation that tore at his happiness stemming from Sansa. He shuddered at the thought of the dragon coming for her, smarter than humans, a beast of magic. It could be aware of Sansa’s hatred for Daenerys, and Daenerys’ hatred of Sansa. He had to stop three dragons, somehow. 

 

‘I have broken vows, I have killed…. for Sansa, for the North... ‘ Jon stated. ‘I will do it again, and I will die for them, already died once anyway.’ For the rest of the kingdoms, you basically appointed Bran and he appointed you for the task, I have my own priorities.’ his voice was cynical, the memory of being stabbed to death still made the scars on his chest sting. He didn’t care for the rest of the kingdoms, he cared for his home, and his love lived in that home, belonged to them both by blood and combat. They had reclaimed it their own and they had shed blood for it, he cared about it and only.  Tyrion sighed and nodded, not sure what to say for the first time in a long time, Jon was sure. Tyrion had once asked him what to expect of it all, afterlife, and Jon had lied, nothing he had told him, the Lannister had found solace in that, and here they were, so long after, both alive and talking again, both free, both desperate. 

Their conversation was interrupted as brothers of the watch and Northernmen entered the place, escorting Sansa who reached Jon and Tyrion and smiled at both of them. She had changed dress from her traveling one, heavy fabrics, delicately engraved with silver thread, she was beautiful. Both Jon and Tyrion stood and bowed their heads at her as she acknowledged them, her eyes lingering on Jon, Tyrion seemed to notice. Her braids caught the candlelight, making her hair look redder. Jon smiled at her beauty as she sat down between the two men and soon the food was served, filling the chamber with delicious smell. Wine was served along ale and Tyrion seemed joyous at it. 

‘Ah the good wine,’ he declared as he filled his cup, uninterested in the food after his talk with Jon. Sansa nodded as Jon filled her own cup with the red liquid. 

‘From the Vale,’ Sansa offered the information and Jon snapped his eyes back at her, challenge flickered in them and a small smirk on her lips. She had enjoyed his jealousy, drank in it, she had been jealous of him before, now she was taking her revenge. 

‘Then it must be  _ divine _ ,’ Jon offered, adding to his own cup, instead of his favorite ale, rising above in attitude as he drank from it like she did. Too sweet for his taste, too mild for his mouth, yet he smiled at her. He didn’t want her to see the shadow in his eyes, brought by the talk of death and dragons with Tyrion, he wanted her to be happy. He preferred the hot jealousy over her suitors from their previous conversation that morning than the cold fear for her safety from his talk with Tyrion Lannister.

Last, Tormund and Brienne entered the chamber, Brienne was uneasy, finding a seat among the men while Tormund reached for the Queen and Warden, grasping his horn with ale already, he seemed joyous. He stood behind the chairs of Jon and Sansa and everyone looked at him. Sansa remembered the happy time they had after the Battle of WInterfell, where they had drunk and had fun like northerners did. 

‘To the Starks!’ Tormund called out as he raised his horn and everyone did the same, looking at the two people. Sansa smiled and pointed her cup back at them, Jon mimicked her gesture. ‘The Red Wolf, the Independent and the White Wolf, the Dragonslayer!’ Tormund boomed as he looked around at the Watch, the wildlings and northernemen alike, all ruled at heart and duty by Sansa and Jon. ‘This time in one go,’ Tormund commanded both Starks and they laughed and looked at each other, nodding. Tormund started emptying the horn, liquid running down from his lips to his unruly beard.

_ ‘Go on, I believe in you,’  _ the words hang between them, from almost a year ago as they both reached for the sweet wine, it’d give them a headache that would last until they were back in their home. They welcomed the challenge as they both started gulping down the sweet liquid, making everyone in the chamber cheer for them and their stupidity. Sansa was a moment faster and slammed her goblet on the table, choking for a moment before she could smile at everyone, as Jon set down his own goblet and screwed his eyes, so sweet it felt burning. They both smiled at each other as everyone cheered and Tyrion mumbled something about barbarians abusing good wine by shoving it down their throats as if it was cheap beer. 

~

Sansa’s eyes squinted at the bright snow as she remained by her horse, her head throbbed, her stomach uneasy, damn wine from the Vale and damn Tormund and his challenges. Jon was hugging his best friend,looking as miserable but Sansa was certain for him, it wasn’t just the wine, it was also saying goodbye to his friend once again, this time as a free man, a lord, a Stark.

Jon beckoned Ghost who trotted between them happily, reaching Sansa and the delegation, the direwolf wanted to follow them. Sansa felt happy, secure with the remaining direwolf among them. She patted the beast’s head before she could easily mount her mare, a servant only helping her with her dress once she did. Jon did the same and together they started at the head of the party, exiting the gate of Castle Black, leaving together like they once did to go and reclaim Winterfell. Now they were going back at it as its rightful rulers. 

The trip was long and the delegation silent, half recovering from the hangover and half content at the success of their mission. Ghot ran freely before them, burning the energy he always had and searching for threats on the way. Sansa glanced at Jon who was looking ahead, as if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and looked at her, gifting her with a smile. 

‘Everything will be alright,’ optimism was not one of her traits but she couldn’t help but believe in it, a huge missing part of hers -and the North’s- had just clicked back into place. Despite the dragons and the political conflict that Jon’s return could create, she was happy, he was coming back home, where he belonged, reclaiming the place he deserved, as one of the heads of the North. 

‘I know, we’ll make it alright,’ Jon’s matching optimism surprised her and she smiled at the sound of his deep voice. ‘Tell me what has changed, what am I to expect,’ Jon offered the opening for easy conversation, Sansa smiled and nodded. 

‘The storages are full of food so no one is angry or worried. Smallfolk have the usual arguments among each other, yet spring is approaching so they will soon have enough corps to be busy with.’ Sansa started and Jon nodded. ‘The Lords and Ladies are more or less happy, apart from the usual pressure for me to marry and produce heirs…’ Sansa added and Jon’s lips tightened, she liked the reaction, enjoyed it even. ‘They are content with my rule, I always make sure to listen to their advice, and then I try to find a solution to keep everyone satisfied.’ Sansa added and Jon smiled this time. ‘The restoration of the North is not nearly complete. I made sure the aids were sent to the Last Hearth, the Queenscrown and the Dreadfort, all the places most affected by the Dead’s march to our castle…’ Sansa explained and Jon nodded with a smile. 

‘You’re good at it,’ Jon echoed her words, Sansa caught his meaning with a smile but Jon added the words, showing her his respect, ‘At ruling,’ he added and she blushed. 

‘Winterfell has almost finished, so everyone can find shelter in case of another crisis,’ Sansa added, trying to be unaffected by the warmth his praise caused her, feasting at the pride of his words. It was nice to have people praising her but Jon was special, in every way, it meant more. ‘I repaired the Crypts first,’ Sansa said quietly and Jon wished he could reach and touch her hand in comfort. The Crypts had almost been her resting place a year ago, where the dead had infiltrated. ‘The Great Keep is restored, so are the battlements and surrounding Wall… I added some details in the Great Hall…’ Sansa added and Jon smiled at her, wondering what she’d have done. 

‘All in all, what remains is your Queenguard and the armies to be guided by one person,’ Jon counted the things missing and Sansa nodded her head. 

‘Every Lord commands their own family’s bannermen in my name, but in the case of some emergency, I need the Warden to command them all, or there might be conflict among the Lords on strategies and ways forward.’ Sansa confirmed and Jon nodded his head. 

‘You have the Warden, and the Commander of your Guard.’ Jon reassured her and she smiled and nodded her head, wishing she could reach out for him and she would have if they weren’t riding on their horses. Ghost’s happy howl was heard from some feet ahead, the beast was happily waiting. ‘Someone’s joyous going to Winterfell. I believed he’d be happy at the Wall,’ Jon commented and Sansa smiled and shrugged. 

‘Well, he might have missed playing with the children at the courtyard. He was very good while you were away,’ Sansa commented and Jon smiled and nodded, glad she had been accompanied by his wolf while he was away. He pushed away the guilt as her voice had been casual, keeping no hostility or accusation, it was a new thing as they had been so tense around each other between his time after Dragonstone and his exile. 

Under Sansa’s command the delegation had been set to push past Mole’s Town in the first day of riding, starting from very early in the morning from Castle Black. The first stop would be the Queenscrown, recently revived by the small aid Sansa had achieved to send along to villagers who lost their small houses within the Wolfswood and the command to exploit the existing tower and reparable infrastructure of the place. It wasn’t much but the people had appreciated the help as the alternative were the graveyard their villages had turned into by the White Walkers. The Queenscrown used to be under the Nightwatch’s command but the people had followed Sansa’s strategic lead to the place that before served no one, she was trying to work with whatever she had into saving her people and settling them again. Affectionately, the villagers called the place Sansascrown and the party was greeted with enthusiasm as Sansa and Jon reached the outpost. There were already some babe’s cries and Sansa was only happy her people were falling back to normal lives, having Northern children and living with no fear. 

The news of the Warden Jon Stark had reached the place via raven and the few people in the small place cheered for the two young Starks as they made way for the delegation reaching the tower and mill. There was no question as to how the delegation would be arranged, they had stopped by on their way to the Wall. Sansa would stay at the higher room of the tower, the rest of the delegation would stay within it, in smaller rooms that served as storage of food and grain, it was a night’s stay and everyone was exhausted, as long as there was ale and wine, they would make it, the only problem was, the Warden had no place to sleep if the Queen took the quarters. 

Many opened their houses for him and Jon felt humbled, among his people once again, only settled and thankful and generous because of Sansa’s generosity and love. But he had been used on sleeping even on the cold ground. He didn’t want to force anyone from his bed, from their hearth. The newly built cottages seemed warm and comfortable but Sansa intervened as the village had no commander apart from elder villagers who bowed to her and took decisions. 

‘Jon Stark, the Warden of the North is my beloved cousin and sworn Commander of my Guard, my only Guard as he’s the first member of it,’ Sansa’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, the cold and her daring caused the tremor. Tyrion and Brienne were looking at her knowingly. ‘We’ll arrange a bed for him outside my door, guarding me properly while no one is forced out of their comfort. On the morrow, we’ll be on our way, we wish to cause no unrest.’ she added and the villagers nodded their heads at her convenient words. She looked at Jon with a smile, he nodded as she set for the tower. Brienne reached her at the stairs and Sansa turned and looked at her, she seemed as exhausted as she was herself. 

‘How can I help you, Brienne?’ Sansa asked and the knight hesitated for a moment. 

‘Your Grace, I only wanted to make sure you’re alright,’ Brienne asked, they hadn’t lived among each other for over a year but between them ran deep respect and trust. Sansa was certain Brienne saw more than she admitted. Sansa didn’t need to pretend around her old friend and sworn shield. She had seen the woman broken after Jamie Lannister’s departure from Winterfell, she had seen her devastated when she learnt of the Lannister’s death. 

‘I’m careful and I'm happy, is that enough?’ Sansa asked her reply and Brienne nodded, Sansa knew her oath to her Lady mother still stood for her wellbeing, no matter if she served to Bran’s Kingsguard as the Commander. 

‘It is,’ Brienne nodded and Sansa smiled and was ready to move to her quarters when Brinne spoke her next words. ‘Have you ever been in love?’ Sansa halted, she didn’t expect Brienne to ask such thing, she was seeking confirmation, she was ready to give advice on something both women lacked. 

‘Yes,’ Sansa replied in a whisper, they were always honest around each other. That’s why Sansa had spared Jamie Lannister by turning him into her guest when he had reached Winterfell, protecting him with her hospitality, no matter how the Freys had treated the Starks under the Lannister’s command while in their hospitality. 

‘How did it end?’ Brienne asked this time and Sansa sighed and braced herself, giving Brienne what she wanted to know, she was the first person she was confirming it apart from herself and Jon. 

‘It hasn’t,’ she replied and Brienne nodded finally, lowering her head. 

‘It won’t be easy for everyone to accept him as your consort,’ Brienne warned and Sansa nodded. 

‘It used to be unthinkable to have a Queen Regent,’ Sansa countered and Brienne this time smiled. ‘Or a woman knight as the Commander of the Kingsguard, yet here we stand.’ she added and Brienne smiled wider, nodding her head. ‘I intent to exploit the changing times we live in,’ Sansa added. ‘And even if chaos ensues, I see it as a ladder,’ she added, remembering Littlefinger’s words once at the Vale. 

The two parted without another word, only smiles on their faces, it was liberating to confirm her feelings for Jon to another, someone of her trust. She reached the higher floor and there was already a girl fixing the fireplace and placing hot water in a pot. She wouldn’t have a bath that night but she could clean her skin with a cloth. 

‘The vilage’s crones are making stew for all of you, my queen,’ the girl bowed deeply and Sansa smiled and nodded as the teenager exited the room quickly. The room was basically a simple room with a desk, a single bed and an old bookcase, possibly holding the only few scrolls and books gathered by all the villagers combined. Due to its small size, the fireplace warmed it fast and Sansa sighed as she sat on one of the two chairs in it, stretching her back after so long on the saddle. 

After awhile she could hear movement outside the door and voices. She waited, when the voices quieted down, she opened the door, sensing his presence before she could even see him.  Jon smiled at her as he had just unwrapped his belt from around him, along his cloak and fur, left them on the makeshift bed in the corridor right outside her door, almost blocking her way in the spiral corridor. Sansa gave him an amused smile. 

‘A bed fit for the Warden,’ she commented and Jon smiled and looked over her shoulder, the single bed was visible behind her. 

‘And a bed fit for a Queen,’ he said with a matching smile. She moved from the door and made way for him to enter the chamber. He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he grabbed his sword, mostly out of instinct and entered the room, craving the privacy. Sansa closed the door and barred it before she could turn around, the moment she did, he was already an inch away, wrapping his arms around her, their kiss was slow and tender, after a day and a half at arm’s length yet not touching. 

Jon wished to kiss her deeply, to feast his hands in her hair and never let her go, but he had felt the slight jump of her body as he wrapped his arms around her, not used to such proximity from a man. She had melted into his arms quickly but he knew, she would need time to that kind of contact, no matter how much her heart craved for it, as much as his, her body had reflexes sharpened by her experiences. 

They broke their kiss in breathless gasps and Sansa launched again, needing more of the warmth of his lips, the feeling of safety that surrounded her along his arms. She was kissing a man, the man she loved, and she wasn’t forced into anything. His presence woke fire within her, fire she never expected to feel. Despite her name as the Red Wolf, people also called her Ice Queen, unmarried, unyielding, after what was known that happened to her, people believed she had turned into ice, and sometimes, during the previous months, in the middle of the night, she believed the same for herself, no matter how fast she melted now against Jon. 

‘Sansa,’ her name was a gasp and a plead. His body screamed desire but it was too soon, too fast, he knew, maybe not for him, but certainly for her. He had promised to protect her, and he would keep that promise. She would be loved and cherished, worshiped as she deserved, she was different from the others. Yggrite had been challenging, taunting, a wildling, Daenerys had been demanding and intense, the widow of a Khal. But Sansa, Sansa was delicate and unbreakable, forged through hardship and carved by self-respect. 

‘Jon…’ Sansa whispered his own name, their foreheads touching, their breaths fast against each other’s lips. ‘I feel addicted to this,’ she whispered her confession as their gazes locked. He didn’t have to question but she replied nonetheless. ‘Your kisses… all this,’ she added and Jon’s eyes closed as he bit lightly on her lower lip, making her moan and kiss him again. Her hands moved in the back of his head, her fingers in his black curls, he couldn’t help it as he pushed her slightly closer to the wall behind them. They both needed the support as their bodies burnt and their knees turned weak. His own hands moved finally to her hair, tangled and cold from the long day. Their kiss broke again for breath and they found their bodies pressed against each other, their heavy fabrics keeping them apart. They should stop, they knew, they calmed their breathing, lowered their arms from each other, retreating to an embrace, they had tasted a dose of pleasure, of each other, their secret dreams were materialising, slowly, their scalding fantasies would too, but for now they had to pause. Reclaiming their feelings for each other, giving in to their desire.

There was a knock on the door and they broke apart quickly. Sansa gesturing for Jon to be quiet as she pushed her body off the wall, smoothed her hair and dress and took a breath before she could open the door, revealing the little girl with two bowls of soup on a wooden tray. 

‘The stew, my queen, I… I thought the Warden would be here.’ the girl’s voice trembled as she didn’t raise her eyes to Sansa’s. She smiled and took the tray in her hands. 

‘He probably went downstairs, he will join me for dinner as we must discuss strategies. Thank you, dear.’ Sansa offered and Jon suppressed a smile as the girl nodded her head, too nervous to stay in Sansa’s presence a moment longer, she retreated quickly and Sansa made a step back with the tray as he pushed the door closed, baring it again. 

Their stomachs growled at the smell of the stew and both moved close to the desk, Sansa set down the tray as Jon gathered the chairs close to each other. They collapsed on them and reached for the food eagerly, both closing their eyes at its warmth. 

The silence was comfortable, easy as they ate their dinner, smiling at each other. They had found themselves in such circumstances before, while planning on reclaiming Winterfell, having set camp at the outskirts of their home. They had shared stories back then, of her life at King’s Landing and his Beyond the Wall, of how they survived it all. They had also created their own memories, he had forgiven her for being awful to him while they were young. They had laughed and they had shared ale and food. It was the beginning for both of them,  _ of  _ both of them, and now, after so much and so long, they were together again, allowed to love each other, rulers of their home, reclaiming their lives as they wished to play out for them. 

The food was soon consumed, the fire was dying in the fireplace, the poorly repaired windows allowed the night cold to creep in. At least there were many furs on the bed. Sansa would be warm, Jon observed the place, satisfied she’d be settled. Sansa saw him looking at the bed and decided to stand up and move one of the furs on the floor. 

‘What are you doing?’ he asked and she smiled. 

‘It’s cold in here even with the fireplace.’ she replied as she pulled and loosened  her braids that had turned painful after so many hours on her head, her hair fell wavy on her back, she didn’t miss the way Jon’s eyes widened at it, she smiled as he licked his lips. ‘The corridor must be freezing cold, but you can sleep here,’ Sansa added and finally the blush reached her cheeks at her plan. A few moments before they were pressed against the wall, kissing and nipping at each other but now both remained silent and blushed at the idea of sleeping in the same room. 

‘Sansa… I…’ Jon tried but he couldn’t help but admit he loved the idea. They wouldn’t sleep actually together but they wouldn’t sleep apart either. ‘Alright,’ he finally gave in, making Sansa’s eyes widen in surprise. She had expected an argument, in which she would convince herself along him that it was simply out of convenience and not just because she couldn't help but wonder how he sounded, looked and felt while asleep. 

‘Alright,’ she echoed and both moved across the room to remove their boots. Jon also took off his jerkin, leaving himself in his heavy shirt underneath. Sansa was mesmerized at the gesture, her heart jumping at the thought of him completely undressed. He smiled at her reaction, happy she didn’t seem worried or afraid, he hadn’t thought much of it, he would still be in his pants and shirt, plenty of fabric for her to feel comfortable around. She smiled back at him and turned her back at him, bringing her fire-kissed mane before her, exposing her back to him. He gulped down at the sight of the laces holding the corset tightly around her curves. His body caught fire again and he was glad the shirt was long enough to cover him. 

‘I can sleep in my dress, but not in the corset,’ Sansa explained quietly and closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to run as she felt him nearing, a gasp escaped her lips as he gingerly touched the laces at the lowest of the corset, his knuckles touching her above the fabric. This was Jon, he would never harm her, he would never cause her discomfort, she took a shaky breath as she felt her body shivering. The mixture of old rooted fears and newly born excitement bubbling within her belly as the corset started getting loose around her, allowing her deeper breaths at last. She jumped in her skin and gasped as she felt his lips on her shoulder, away from her neck as not to be too close, he knew she was struggling and he was careful, she respected him for it. 

He couldn’t resist, as he felt the warm laces tickling his hands while he loosened them, he couldn’t resist but lean in, kissing her clothed shoulder, inhaling the oils in her hair, looking at her body over her shoulder, the view she had of herself. He pulled the corset open and dared one more move, wrapping his arms around her from behind, after a moment of stiffness, she leaned back and rested her head against his shoulder, exposing her neck for him. He didn’t dare kiss it, nip and lick at the skin there. Instead, he kissed her cheek, his hands firmly set around her midsection, not going further up or down. 

They broke apart after a few moments of comfort in silence and Sansa decided there was no point in missing what she enjoyed so much. She would reward him for his discreet ways with her proximity, and they’d be warmer. She took the fur and put it back on the bed, she laid down on her side, making space for him, stretching her hand out to him, too scared to vocalize the intention, too hopeful he’d accept and worried he’d refuse. 

Laying with her, only that, closing his eyes while inhaling her sweet scent, sleeping by the side of the woman he craved for so long, the woman he loved and betrayed and was betrayed and loved by. The woman he did it all for, the woman who currently was warm and nervous before him, fighting every urge to run and guard herself from contact, even from contact with him. He’d be unfair and stupid if he turned her down at her most vulnerable, at her strongest, reclaiming her right to love. 

He reached for the bed, knelt on the old mattress and he took her trembling hand and kissed it tenderly. She smiled at him, her body revealing its feminine curves without the corset, his own body felt more human and defined without the heavy leathers and furs. He lowered his body next to hers, their combined weight pushing their fronts closer as the poor bed was old and groaning under their bodies.

They were pressed against each other, sharing a pillow in a mess of furs, red strands of hair, black curls, fabrics and limbs, all tangled with one another. 

‘This feels nice,’ Sansa whispered and couldn’t help but laugh as Jon chuckled and captured her lips with his once again. She broke the kiss as she couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her. All the tension was leaving, the cold, the fears and strategies. She didn’t care where the dragons were, if her baby brother was a good king or not and what would that mean for her, she didn’t care of her enemies and the Lords and Ladies that could not accept Jon, she didn’t care about Arryn and the politics of it all. Her eyelids were heavy, her body warm, too warm maybe but she welcomed the new sensation, the throbbing between her legs, her chest pressed against Jon’s, her stomach filled with stew, one arm trapped between him and her, the other wrapped around him, his own around hers, his scent was leather and cold and a unique smell, him. She was content and happy. 

‘Sweet dreams, San,’ he whispered, using a nickname for her for the first time as he planted a kiss on her forehead, enjoying her warmth. His body reacting at such close proximity, he swifted slightly so she wouldn’t feel his desire for her against her own body, it was sweet torture to have her so close but she needed to be relaxed and comfortable.

She hummed her sleepy response against his throat and he fought the urge to kiss her on the lips once again, his body screaming with desire for her. He forced his eyes closed. They had all the time in the world and none at all. 

His body gave in to exhaustion eventually and both slept peacefully, maybe for the first time in years as they dreamed of each other, while in each other’s arms.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a little bit of everything, I wanted the talk between Jon and Tyrion, and no I won't confirm what happened between tormund and brienne :P this is a unique opportunity for me to show Sansa's rule on a scale, how she cares and helps everyone, how people receive her, I loved having them drinking like idiots, riding by each other's side and sharing a room and a bed, fluffy jonsa is precious, building little by little their physical as much as their emotional relationship, I don't like it when fics show only Jon attentive of Sansa after her abuse or them just jumping each other like nothing ever happened, I want to show that she can fight herself for her own body, based on the trust she has for him, but she must do like most of the job for herself, and I wanted Brienne to reach out and make sure Sansa's alright  
> and I'm sorry I couldn't help the nickname, I'm a sucker for fics who have Jon calling her San... I love it  
> thank you for reading, please comment your thoughts? next chapter we indeed reach Winterfell


	9. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I'm so sorry for the delay of two weeks, life got so busy I could barely sleep, work consumed so much of my time. here is the new update, jonsa are finally back home ;)

_ Chapter Nine - Home _

 

Jon’s heart was thrumming in his chest as they reached the gate of the castle he had called home all his life. He had reclaimed it along Sansa and then had left it as its King, only to return with two dragons trailing him and a Dragon Queen claiming it from them all. 

The news of him being a Stark and the Warden had reached Winterfell before they could arrive. The courtyard was full of people, northerners who smiled and bowed at their Queen and then at him, familiar faces, his people, looking up, some looked at him with suspicion, surprise, even worry. He couldn’t blame them, his return breached the agreement between Westeros and the Unsullied. The Northerners had fought against the Dead for their lives and freedom. Sansa had returned bringing not their King but Independence, and for a year, they had been peaceful. 

Ghost trotted between him and Sansa, he stopped and waited as they dismounted, everyone around them bowed with smiles on their faces as the rest of the delegation dismounted too. Sansa looked at Jon and he smiled back, they were home, together, both Starks and in a secret bond that both excited and frightened them. 

‘You’ve done an amazing job at rebuilding,’ Jon commented proudly as he looked around him, he had left for the South while Winterfell was almost in ruin from the Battle of the Dawn. It was hard to believe all this had been restored within a year. 

‘Only thanks to our people,’ Sansa praised the people around them who straightened and cheered for them both. ‘The North Remembers! More Starks are back to take care of it, your Queen and the Warden of the North pledge to serve and protect you all.’ Sansa spoke loudly, showing the new standards for everyone. The people cheered and voices of acceptance and triumph filled the place. Jon marvelled at how people looked at Sansa, how they accepted her will and intentions, it wasn’t just her blood and their name, people loved her. 

‘You want to see around the place?’ Sansa asked as she approached him, she was a sight for sore eyes, he smiled and nodded. 

‘The Crypts first,’ his voice was deep and she could only nod, her eyes clouding with the longing and mourning for their family. 

They moved towards the doors leading to their family’s resting place while the rest reached the main castle’s rooms, the Great Hall was warm and ready to receive people, they knew. Southerners like Tyrion couldn’t take the cold and both Starks were sure everyone excused them for going to the Crypts. 

The voices and noises from the courtyard faded into silence as they reached the catacombs, illuminated by candles and torches. They moved through the corridors in their heavy clothes, walking among their ancestors, dead of old age or at young wounds, of sickness and childbirth, a long line of Northerners. The first of their closest was Lyanna Stark, standing silently in the candlelight. They both paused and stood before her tomb. Jon’s mother, the woman who swore her brother to secrecy, the woman who secretly married Rhaegar Targaryen and gave birth to Jon. Sansa did what she had done in the past, reached for a candle, dripped some of it on the statue’s outstretched hand and set the candle upon the mold for it to remain standing. She knew of the loveliness of the woman the statue represented, of her beauty and kindness. For over a year she also knew of the tragic way she died and the truth of her fate. 

Jon tried to gulp down the lump in his throat, the guilt for the mother who died during his birth. The woman was buried there, his true father had not been buried, Robert Barratheon had not allowed it. For all his life his mother was so close to him and he had no idea. 

Sansa didn’t have words to say for all her wit. They would need time to actually accept everything. While the War was left behind them, they would finally have time to work through their newly accepted feelings and status as cousins, and lovers. Her aunt was his mother, her father was his uncle, little by little the guilt had been replaced by love, passion and desire. 

She sighed and lowered her eyes as Jon remained to look at his mother’s statue. She couldn’t help but glance at her own mother’s tomb. She reached the statue of Catelyn Stark and she placed a candle for her as well. The woman who always felt a foreigner, who had a sept built for her by her husband. The woman who felt betrayed yet forgave her husband for the supposed betrayal. The woman who couldn’t bare love a motherless child. Sansa took a shaky breath as she looked at the solemn face that always looked at her with adoration. 

She had been born after Jon had been brought to Winterfell by her father. She had been the symbol of her mother’s forgiveness. Sansa wanted to blame her father for his betrayal towards her mother, yet he had kept his vow to his sister, like Jon had done above it all for Sansa herself, while they believed they were siblings and later on cousins. She wiped away the tears, she wished she had a way to tell her mother the truth, but she would also have to tell her about Arya and her change, Bran and his own change, Rickon’s death and her own banes of torture and rape. No, her mother lived through one pain, a great one but not unbearable, she wouldn’t have lived through her children’s desolation. 

Both Sansa and Jon moved away from the statues of their mothers at the same time. Reaching Ned Stark’s tomb, the connection that kept them related, the man who hid a secret and saved Jon, the man who fought with honor yet made stupid mistakes. He lost his head for going against Cersei Lannister and her incestous relationship with her brother. What would he think now of his eldest daughter and the nephew he raised like a son ending up together. Incest was common in the South but not so much in the North, not in Ned Stark’s hearth anyway. 

Sansa reached for Jon’s hand and he held it protectively, pulling her closer to him until they could hug tightly. They were not Catelyn, or Ned or Lyanna or Rheagar, they had been forged through death and pain and they were reclaiming their right to happiness, damn the past and blood relations, damn the banes and lies of the past, they deserved to be happy after all. 

They knew they were risking everything but their lips found each other on their own. The Crypts were the place the Starks found peace, no one would dare reach them. It was the place Jon learned of his parentage, the place Sansa reunited with Arya, the place she was sent to be protected by the battle of the Dawn. It was among the dead Starks where Jon gripped Littlefinger by the neck and shoved him against the wall, all for Sansa and Baelish’ love interest in her, Jon’s fury had suffocated him that day, right before he could leave. The thought of leaving that beast around her had made his skin crawl, thankfully she had taken care of him along Arya. 

‘We need to go to the Great Hall,’ Sansa whispered breathlessly as they broke the kiss. It was inappropriate and it felt good, among their dead relatives, parents and ancestors, yet she felt protected, in his arms, along the dead. The cold and the silence soothed her. The Dead didn’t betray, only the Living. 

‘We do,’ he whispered back as they rested their foreheads against each other, breathing deeply. They had to be careful and slow, for their own feelings, for everyone. 

They took a moment more to calm down, smiled at each other and finally moved, away from the tombs and back into the light of the snowy day. Everyone was excited to see them once again and opened way for them to reach the Great Hall. Jon looked up at the detail she had mentioned once they were in the full of people chamber. 

On the higher wall, the Battle of the Dawn had been painted. Only Sansa had taken care of the details for the North to be prominent. No dragons were present in the scene, only northerners fighting. Jon’s figure leading the fight, Arya going for the Night King, no Sansa either. Sansa watched him looking at the scenery painted before them. 

‘I want it to be there for the future, so people can remember their history. How you fought for the North, how Arya murdered the Night King,’ Sansa said quietly as the Great Hall was livid with people sharing lunch and conversations. Jon nodded but looked at her pointedly. ‘The North doesn’t like Dragons, I had to make some chances, took some liberties.’ Sansa added and Jon this time smirked at her, so rarely he had done so that she had to keep talking. ‘And I wasn’t actually there so I kept me out too,’ she added and Jon simply couldn’t blame her for changing parts of history, yet staying accurate on keeping herself out. She had been tucked away in the crypts, by his and Arya’s commands. She would have been more of a liability than help if she stayed outside. Winterfell would have to be ruled by someone and thank Gods she had been the one ending up on the throne after all. His eyes turned back up at the painting. 

‘You made me look taller.’ he commented with humour and this time Sansa chuckled. 

‘One more of the liberties I took,’ Sansa added with an honest smile. ‘I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again, let alone have you here criticising my art…’ she added and this time he couldn’t help but laugh and nod his head as people beckoned them to join the feast of their return. 

 

*

 

They were satisfied with the food, reaching the master quarters, where Sansa kept her office in her own solar. Her parents’ room had been hers ever since they reclaimed Winterfell with Jon. When she became Queen she moved her office there, Jon was only half surprised, yet he felt like intruding when he had to enter her personal rooms, the desire creeping within him at the sight of the place didn’t help. Her bed was large and he was sure it was comfortable as well, he had shared a poor excuse of a bed with her once already, he wondered how it would feel to share that large bed with the woman he loved. 

‘You’ve brought it all within one room.’ Jon finally spoke the words, trying to take his mind away from her bed, the guards at her door closed it behind them. Sansa nodded her head as she sat in the chair before her desk, many unopened scrolls had gathered for her during her absence. 

‘I needed the privacy, spies could be anywhere,’ Sansa replied absentmindedly as her eyes trailed the lines on the first scroll. Jon observed how she changed into her ruler status. She suddenly seemed cold, calculating. Indeed she had learnt a great deal from Cersei and Littlefinger, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t like the coldness she emitted but he couldn’t blame her, the North was hard to win over, let alone rule and make thrive. 

Sansa raised her blue eyes and regarded him, standing there looking back at her, he was watching her, they were re-learning each other. She closed the scroll and opened another one as she spoke. 

‘As the Warden, I need you to be informed of all matters surrounding our realm, so I suggest you sit down and start reading with me.’ Sansa offered and Jon only nodded, snapping out of his stupor as he sat down on a chair and reached for the first scroll. She knew they’d need another large chair for him, they were to spend hours responding to inquiries and requests across the North in the future. The thought of spending hours together in her quarters created butterflies in her stomach, she fought them down as she tried to focus on the matters of state. 

Jon was reading quickly through the notes, without speaking the new rule they were exchanging scrolls, he gave her the scrolls she’d have to respond to as the Queen, on requests and disputes over land and property and she gave him the scrolls demanding military advice, command or guidance for the bannermen across the North. 

Jon reached for a scroll with the Vale’s sigil on, he wanted to read it before Sansa could, his curiosity getting the better of him. He broke the sigil with more force than needed to break wax, almost tearing the parchment, he knew what it’d be about. 

Pleasantries, compliments of her beauty, her rule, the North’s beauty, its power, it made Jon clear his throat in his attempt not to vomit. Robin Arryn was soon to be reaching them, bearing gifts and himself to Winterfell to see his “most beloved and most lovely cousin”. Jon tossed the scroll away. Sansa caught the swift in his mood and reached for the scroll, reading it quickly as Jon shot up from his chair and paced towards the small table with the ale and cups. He filled two and returned to their desk, offering one to her as he sat back on his chair and looked at her while sipping the liquid. Sansa watched his tensed posture and the need to consume alcohol. 

‘They’ll be here tomorrow most likely,’ Sansa offered calmly and Jon nodded angrily. ‘We’ll have to host a feast of welcome, according to protocol.’she added and he nodded. 

‘Of course,’ he only commented and Sansa narrowed her eyes, yet kept the humour in them, regarding the man before her, if she confessed that she found him utterly adorable in his fury, she’d made things worse, yet she couldn’t help the teasing. 

‘You’re jealous,’ she stated and Jon snorted. 

‘I’m not’ he grumbled and she smiled wider. 

‘You are,’ Sansa insisted and Jon stood up from his chair again, he hated her smile suddenly, taunting him, he was uneasy and angry and her cousin wasn’t even there yet. Suitors would be parading in their home and he would have to remain silent and calm instead of draw his sword and run them all through. He could only imagine the scalding jealousy Sansa had felt while he was there with Daenerys. He pushed away the thought and focused on his own jealousy. 

‘I am,’ he admitted angrily, his eyes suddenly catching a strange fabric upon her bed, golden thread, catching the candle light among the furs, it seemed exotic. 

Sansa followed his eyes landing on the Dornish duvet, then traveling to the wine bottle from the Vale, candle holders with the sigils of the Hoare House from the Kingdom of the Isles and Rivers. She could see realisation drawing down on him as the gifts from the Lords across Westeros were tokens of admiration and courtship. 

Arya always said Sansa liked nice things, gifts of suitors adorned her chambers and kept her company long before he could reach Winterfell, jealousy was eating him up. But what could he say? She was beautiful, she was a Queen without a King, of course men would line up to her court. The pride made his chest tighten at the feel of her lips still lingering on his. His mood was changing rapidly, leaving him tired and breathless at his need for her. Sweet Gods of old, he was in love.

Sansa gasped as he reached for her in two strides, lowered before her, towering her and claiming her lips with his. He was possessing her and she was loving it, she was loving the reality of him wanting her without cornering her, being jealous of her like she had been of him, revenge and desire were sweet, he was claiming her without pushing her, he knew she’d snap, she knew it too. Yet passion and desire were scalding among them, she wondered for how long she’d be able to get glimpses of him before giving in completely. After so long of wanting, thinking and needing him. Maybe building desire and need could push her away from her fears and reservations. 

There was a knock on the door and the two parted abruptly, catching their breath and Jon moving away from her enough not to draw suspicion. Sansa answered the door and it opened to reveal Tyrion Lannister entering the place, glancing between them with solemn eyes as he stood before the desk’s other side. 

‘Tyrion,’ Sansa acknowledged and he bowed his head slightly, she gestured for him to take a seat, unable to ignore the tension that sparked between her ex husband and her truelove. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ she spoke the words in vain as the two men looked at each other before Tyrion could tear his eyes away from Jon and lay them back at her. 

‘Half my mission has been completed, a mission set by your brother,’ Tyrion explained, Sansa nodded. ‘Bran will soon contact you both on the way he sees fit to guide Jon on learning how to tame the beasts.’ Tyrion explained and both Sansa and Jon sighed at the bitter reality of Jon’s true reason for returning. 

‘Do you know the details?’ Sansa asked and Tyrion shook his head. 

‘He will send his raven when he believes the time is right, when he’s ready. All I know is that he ordered for a weirdwood to be planted in the Red Keep’s garden about a year ago, it was one of the first things he asked me to take care of. He will use that so he can contact you, from there, he will know how to help you.’ Tyrion explained and Sansa looked at Jon who nodded. She wondered once what Dragons eat, now she wondered how you tame such beasts, how you keep them down and make them obey.

 Jon looked so much like a Stark, in everything, he was a Northerner, she had such a hard time imagining him commanding such beast like a Targaryen, even if she had seen him riding a dragon before. The image had been so surreal and bizarre, he was a wolf, the Dragon Queen belonged in the past, not even her body had remained. Everyone around Westeros did their best to forget the mad foreigner who destroyed the capital. Her beast now was returning along two more, it felt like her ghost was returning, but Jon had ridden them of fire and blood once, he’d do it again, even if that meant tapping into his own Targaryen blood to succeed. 

‘Very well,’ Sansa replied finally, Tyrion nodded. ‘I can only hope that we… that Jon will succeed in saving us,’ Sansa added and Tyrion smiled. 

‘He did so once, he will do it again.’ Tyrion commented with confidence and Jon snorted, causing Sansa to look up at him. 

‘Aye...If I feel reserved in any way, I’ll make sure to come talk to you,’ Jon retorted angrily and Sansa frowned and looked at Tyrion. ‘Your talk had helped a lot the first time,’ Jon added and Tyrion nodded, understanding more than Sansa did. 

‘I just used the motive I knew you wouldn’t be able deny…. Obviously I had my reasons right....’ Tyrion retorted back and Sansa sighed angrily. 

‘If you keep talking as if I’m not in the room, you can very well get out of it,’ Sansa’s words were exasperated as she looked between the two men who glared daggers at each other. 

‘I used you and Arya to make Jon see reason so he would kill Daenerys,’ Tyrion admitted, still looking into Jon’s eyes. ‘I pushed him by mentioning you specifically, knowing he had feelings for you, knowing he’d kill anyone for you, even her,’ Tyrion finally revealed and Sansa couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Lannister. She knew all this from her talk with Jon, he had killed the Dragon Queen for her,  _ because  _ of her, but she had no idea Tyrion had been the abettor in the assasination, using her as the subject of interest behind it all. 

‘I wish I could say I’m surprised.’ Sansa finally spoke the words while looking at Tyrion. The dwarf was smart, he elected a king, got himself in the position of the Hand and allowed Jon to be punished while he became royalty again, holding Casterly Rock and his life intact while Jon had been sent to rot on the Wall. She was worried about him as the Hand of her baby brother, she was worried about what would happen when Bran wouldn’t be fit to rule anymore, due to age or his change into the Third Eyed Raven. 

She cared for the North but all that system of electing the leader the Six Kingdoms worried her. She feared the North would be involved if there was to be unrest following that stupid election in the future. She hadn’t believed in Tyrion’s words during the Council, she didn’t agree with Bran becoming King, unable to have children and being there for the sake of someone rebuilding from the ashes, elected by a bunch of greedy nobles. What would happen during a crisis? What would happen after prosperity left the Six Kingdoms rich and attractive to be ruled, what kind of children these noble people would produce? Would that new generation turn into war instead of elections? Would the North be involved and requested to take sides? Which side she or her own children -if she produced any after all- would have to pick? Half of the noble families ruling the Six Kingdoms were related to the Starks. Sansa didn’t want to be pessimistic but she was realistic, she could see Civil War approaching during or right after her baby brother’s reign. And it had been all Tyrion’s idea, talking of stories he didn’t listen to and leading people to murder while keeping his own hands clean. 

‘Would that be all?’ Sansa asked finally and Tyrion nodded, feeling the coldness from both Starks, a lion in a pack of wolves, how things had changed from the time Sansa had been trapped in a den of lions. 

‘I will wait for Lord Arryn to reach Winterfell, as protocol demands, so please bare with me in your graceful hospitality for two more nights, then I will depart.’ Tyrion pleaded and Sansa nodded, struggling to keep the balances while losing every ounce of trust in the man before him, the man he stood by her side in the Crypts. He had been the best of her husbands, among monsters, yet had been monstrous himself during his life, that’s why he had survived like they had…

Tyrion left the room quietly, leaving Jon and Sansa alone once again. She rose from her chair and reached Jon, taking his hand in hers. She had promised herself she’d never call her by her name. She was the Dragon Queen to her, she’d make sure the North and the rest of the Kingdoms would remember her thus until her memory could be extinguished from the world. She could see the darkness clouding Jon’s eyes and wondered for how long her ghost would haunt them, her beasts were about to plague them again, keeping the terror alive. 

‘I’m not sad about her death,’ Jon offered the truth. ‘Not anymore, guilty yes, but sad, no,’ he added and Sansa sighed and cupped his face with her hand, he leaned into her touch. ‘But I’m scared, I’m scared I won’t be enough to stop the dragons, that they will return and this time…’ his voice trailed off before he could take a deep breath and look at Sansa’s eyes. ‘And this time they will come for Winterfell, for you, and then all I have done, all the betrayal and the guilt will be for nothing.’ Jon whispered the words, his deep voice cracking ‘I could stand killing her, but I can’t stand the thought, the  _ possibility  _ of you dying.’ Jon added, getting closer to her. How could he protect her from a beast no one tamed for hundreds of years. How could he keep her safe before such threat. They killed their enemies, his murderers, her tormentors and their oppressors, but could he protect her from such threat?

‘I have faith in you,’ Sansa whispered back, wrapping her arms around him like he did with his around her. ‘But even if we fail….’ Sansa added, looking deep into his dark eyes. 

‘ _ Some say the world will end in Fire...Some say in Ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire…’ _ Sansa started the words of the age old poem. Jon couldn’t help but marvel at her courage, her eyes flickering with need at the mention of desire, for him.  _ ‘I hold with those who favor fire.’ _ she added and he could only part his lips, he had tasted fire, like she had, unlike true Targaryens, they had burnt yet survived.  _ ‘But if it had to perish twice,’  _ this time they spoke the words in unison, he had perished once, and returned.  _  ‘I think I know enough of hate.To say that for destruction ice, Is also great.’  _ he had died on the ice, his hot blood had melted the white blanket on which he had fallen, she had been married on the ice, to a monster that changed her forever.  _ ‘ And would suffice.’ _ they finished the poem together before their lips could meet once more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would have Robin's return but the plot led me on its own to a large chapter of these two returning home and the various themes they had to explore together, the scene in the crypts was something I wanted to make since I started this and Jon being jealous is simply adorable for me, I also want a dash of darkness into jonsa as they have been through so much and i don't think they could remain the naive children they were in season 1, desire and lust are normal among people in love, people who have been through a lot can remain honorable but they have their shady thoughts and moments, both jon and sansa have proved that  
>  I also wanted to move on with the plot about the dragons but also have tyrion facing his actions from a year ago and Sansa questioning the whole newly thing called election in an era and political landscape that I think democracy can't simply work. so yes, sansa has her doubts, jon is angry and tyrion is trying to fix it all even if he's not a favorite company anymore. the future will be hard with dragons and the new way of ruling the realms, the first chapter of this story proves it after all ;)  
> I hope you liked the chapter, thanks for reading! comments?


	10. Of Many Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here is the chapter I wanted to make for Robin's visit in Winterfell.

_ Chapter Ten - Of Many Names _

 

Jon pulled at the strap of his belt, securing Longclaw by his side and took a deep breath as he looked outside the window. He was dressed in his best clothes, the Stark Wolf present in small details on him, his hair pulled back in a knot, his boots polished and his jerkin new.The weight of the world fell heavy once again on his shoulders as he shrugged in the clothes Sansa had ordered to be made for him.

He had to stop three dragons, somehow, through Bran and the Godswood, Bran who was his cousin and not brother, Bran who was a strange creature, Northern yet unworldly, sitting on the throne that wasn’t made of Iron swords anymore. 

Sansa had been doing her part, ruling, making their lands thrive. She had restored him, she was receiving royal guests and kept herself unmarried as not to tie the North to anyone again. He had to do his own part, as the Warden for the North, as her Commander of the Queen's Guard, as her cousin, as Jon Stark, as he had promised her protection.

He decided he had to focus on his actions rather than his thoughts as he moved to the doors of his quarters. The chambers that once belonged to Robb now belonged to him, the Heir’s quarters became the Warden’s, the Lord’s chambers belonged to the Queen. He moved toward those chambers and the moment he was ready to knock after he received bows by the guards he had appointed at her door, it opened to reveal Maester Wolkan ready to leave. He too curtseyed and left, allowing Jon in and closing the door behind them. Jon smelled of a strange odor as he saw Sansa cupping a jar and closing it inside a drawer of a chest she had inside the room. She smiled as he entered, slightly out of breath at his sight. Jon wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask, women had different bodies than man, that much he knew. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. 

Radiant, like the night of the feast welcoming Cersei and Robert Baratheon in Winterfell, so many years ago. She was wearing a regal dress of grey and blue, the stark wolf embodied on the beautiful cloak she had above her shoulders, her fiery hair in northern style braids and tucked in the back of her head. For the first time he saw the crown of the North, her crown, two wolves joint, people might didn’t notice but he did, one kept the other’s throat safe, typical behaviour of wolves, the females always protecting the males, he could only smile at the detail she had put into her reign, from politics to aesthetics. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world. She bent before their desk and gathered something, her hands were full with a fur and Jon knew instantly what that was, like in the past. 

‘San,’ his voice was low, yet the smile on his face was there, he had realized a long time ago he only smiled at her, her presence, her memory, her voice and her smile. She was his smile. 

‘Are you ready?’ Sansa asked softly and he wanted to nod, the twist in his stomach tightening. 

They were to assemble in the courtyard to receive the royal guests from the Vale. Robin Arryn would be there, most likely to ask Sansa in marriage, Yohn Royce would be there too, ready to establish the claim with his strong political influence. Apart from the personal,  _ private  _ unease over another man claiming Sansa for his, Jon was worried about the political implications the refusal would cause, married with his own return from the Wall. The North could not only lose a strong and geographically convenient ally, it could even gain an enemy, an enemy backed by five more Kingdoms. Bran’s rule over Robin’s Vale and the sworn peace among the Stark reigned areas could lead to dispute within the Six Kingdoms. That was if Robin wished to make an enemy out of the North. Both Sansa and Bran were new rulers, from the same family, a woman ruling the North for the first time and a cripple from the North ruling the Six Kingdoms. Jon wasn’t sure how he could help both Starks by returning. Maybe killing the dragons that could devastate the continent would help somehow... each Stark for a different job. 

His smile had faded and her eyes had darkened as she approached him, the furs still between them, he lowered his dark eyes on them. 

‘I didn’t have time to make them for you, but I ordered them made, I only sewn the emblem last night.’ Sansa explained and Jon could only cup her face in his hands and kiss her, damn anyone who could simply open the door and catch them. He loved her, she was the one believing in him, always counting him a Stark in her heart, even when he didn’t allow himself to feel like one. When she had the power and chance, she had officially made him Jon Stark, what his heart had craved for so long. Their kiss broke in an inhale of breath from both, their noses touching. 

‘You look so beautiful,’ he muttered and she smiled and helped him with the fur and straps holding it around him. He had lost his previous gift from her in Dragonstone, where he had lost himself along everything that belonged to him. She wrapped the straps and tightened them on his chest, patting the emblem of the Wolf and keeping her fingers there, he wrapped his arms around her body despite the many clothes she wore. 

‘Are you ready?’ Sansa repeated the words, Jon searched her eyes, that icy-blue color, made of a Tully mother yet so fitting with the ice of her -their she would insist- kingdom. They would rule together, as the Queen and her Warden, they would make it, they would face it all together. He knew she thought she needed him by her side -maybe in some matter she really did- but she had no idea how much strength he drew from her. 

‘I am,’ he reassured her and she smiled, her hands travelled to his own and he took them. ‘Promise you won’t accept the proposal?’ he requested reassurance with humor and she chuckled, he delighted at the sound of her laugh, she was the same girl who had choked on ale and spoke of how awful she had been to him while in childhood. 

‘I will accept only one proposal,’ Sansa said with a smile before she could focus her eyes on his, their bodies losing the sliver of space between them as she moved to him. ‘And I hope it will be from another cousin of mine,’ she whispered the words she dared speak. The girl she once was would have fainted at the daring manner. The Queen she was now could only rejoice at how wrong she had been on not marrying for love. 

Jon’s breath had been stolen. Her words, the implications, the hope. He nodded and cupped her face again, this time he kissed her forehead, like so long ago, only now his bottom lip touched her warm skin and his upper lip touched the cold metal of her crown. They had agreed on waiting, they had agreed on taking time. They had to, even if he wanted to marry her right then and there, in the godswood, he wanted to cloak her, bed her, love and worship her as she deserved. 

They said nothing more, they didn’t have to. They finally parted, needing the space to clean their heads before the duty ahead. Before they could reach the door however, Jon took her hand in his again and kissed her knuckles. 

‘I…’ Jon knew he had to be a new man, the man who spoke before it was too late, the man who wouldn’t lie or kill a lover, ever again. Jon Stark, Sansa Stark believed him honorable, he wanted to be exactly that. ‘I love you,’ his voice was low but the words clear. Sansa’s eyes widened at the confession, he feared she’d be afraid, cursing himself for opening up thus, he couldn’t help it. 

_ Someone Brave, Gentle and Strong.  _

Her father’s words echoed inside her head. Brave he was, against the dead, against the dragons, against all injustices. Gentle, oh he had been gentle, the day she fell in his arms after escaping her second husband. He had been gentle when he forgave her hiding the knights of the Vale, he had kissed her forehead, he had hugged her after Dragonstone, tenderly even under the Dragon’s stare. And he had been Strong, Strong enough to die and come back, strong to kill men he admired, traitors, the Dragon Queen. Her father had promised and as even if she had changed from porcelain, to ivory, to steel, she had found her promised match.

 

They stood prominent before the court of Winterfell. Sansa with her crown, Jon in his furs and Ghost by his side. Tyrion and Brienne stood right behind them as protocol demanded, the rest of the Lords and Ladies from houses across the North stood further back. The carriage of the Lord Protector of the Vale was followed by four more, bearing gifts. 

Sansa felt Jon stiffening besides her at the sight of the carriage opening and Robin Arryn coming out of it, followed by Yohn Royce. The young Lord had grew to be a handsome young man, arrogant to the bone, full of himself by the way he looked at everything before his eyes could land on her and change. Sansa wondered how everyone had put up with her while growing and being exactly like her cousin from the Vale. The void gaping bellow the Moon Door as her aunt Lysa had grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her towards it, flashed through Sansa’s mind and she swallowed hard. Robin had her aunt’s eyes, she still remembered slapping him after he destroyed her snow castle, she wasn’t sure if she was disturbed, annoyed or worried of his presence around her. 

‘Sansa, the most beautiful and tender Queen. Our mothers would have rejoiced at our reunion, their beloved children together again, uniting the North and the Vale.’ Robin’s words were rehearsed, spoken with ease but without meaning or substance. Many called Sansa the ice-queen, their mothers had been in awful terms thanks to Littlefinger, their union would have been reasons for the two ladies to kill each other, leading the North and the Vale at war. Sansa smiled broadly, the smile never reaching her eyes as she nodded her head, the crown heavy on top of it. 

‘Dearest cousin, proud and fair Protector of the Vale.’ Sansa replied the courtesy before Robin could approach and take both her hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles Jon had kissed awhile before. Sansa could feel her beloved seething by her side, no matter the reassurance and closeness, he was jealous, she was sure. Ghost growled deep in his throat but Sansa could have sworn the noise could have come from Jon as well. Robin let go of her hands as he turned towards Jon. The moment the tall figure of her southern cousin was out of her vision, she could see Yohn Royce glaring at both her and Jon. Sansa knew the man, he was the true ruler behind the young Lord, he had been a valuable councilor to herself while she struggled to keep the North together. His goal was one: the well being of the children of Lysa and Catelyn Tully, and in his eyes that would happen with their union. 

‘Jon Stark, at last I meet the Warden of the North,’ Robin called the name and title for the first time after Sansa had. Jon nodded without expression and clasped hands with the young Lord who had kissed Sansa’s hands a moment before. Maybe he should channel his armies against the Vale after all. 

‘It’s good to meet you, my Lord,’ Jon finally spoke as Yohn Royce approached Sansa bowed deeply to her, Sansa nodded in respect as she outstretched her hand, showing her respect to the man who took it and bowed again. 

 

The feast’s food and alcohol had been imbued by the gifts from the Vale. More overly sweet wine, Jon thought with disgust as the sweet smell invaded his nostrils. He was sat by Sansa’s side, on her left Robin was sat and then Yohn Royce and Tyrion Lannister. Sansa had allowed them to sit by each other’s company, they belonged in the same kingdom after all. Jon had informed Sansa he’d speak to all the houses of the north at the chance of everyone gathered for the visit. He needed men from all over the North to join the queensguard as to establish each and every family’s loyalty by having noble men serving their Queen and at the same time representing the bannermen the Warden would guide into battle, if need be. 

He was also vigilant for the moment Robin would stand up and propose or do something equally stupid. He hoped the proposal would be in private, so in private it could be turned down and Robin be spared the humiliation. 

The feast was going on smoothly, Jon made sure not to drink much, he needed a clean head and perception, he was worried, worried something would go wrong, he guarded Sansa carefully in the full of people from the North and the South, room. 

He saw Robin staring at the painting Sansa had created before he could stand up and extend his hand for the young Queen, beckoning her to a dance. Jon stiffened but stood in respect as Sansa accepted the hand and stood.  _ “A lady's armor is courtesy.”   _ she once had told him yet he couldn’t help the scalding jealousy that choked him as the tall man danced with Sansa. He hated to admit they made a seemingly nice couple. A powerful couple among noble people joining two massive territories of the continent. Jon’s eyes burnt at Arryn’s hands upon Sansa’s back. His hand curled around the arm of his chair until he felt the blood abandoning his limb. 

_ ‘If we don’t take back the North, we’ll never be safe. I want you to help me but I’ll do it myself if I have to.’  _ And she had done so, through the Vale. She had maintained it while he gave it to Daenerys. She became its Queen when all she had hoped was for him to be back with her as the King. Now she was giving him her heart and power, establishing him as the Warden and co-ruler and in the future… as her husband and father of their heirs. 

Gods, it was only a few days from his pardon and they were spiraling into newly found and long forgotten territories. He was worried and afraid, delighted and daring. He was in love and she was too, even if in that department, she had been through so much, he knew she’d need time and care, affection and gentleness he was ready to give to her.

The dance finished and Robin kissed Sansa’s hand again. Jon found himself clapping his hands for the couple of dancers, it had been all elevated by the thought of his union with Sansa. The Great Hall was full of people and only Jon, Tyrion and a couple of Sansa’s oldest advisors from Houses Amber and Cerwyn noticed Yohn Royce’s gesture for Sansa to have a word. Jon knew it was time and he approached the Queen, he had every right as Warden and Commander of her Guard to be there. 

Sansa led the small party out of the Great Hall through a corridor to a chamber of council so they could speak. Robin had taken Sansa’s hand while in the corridor and Jon felt his hand going to Longclaw on its own accord, stopped only by Tyrion Lannister who looked at him with a shake of his head. Jon took a deep breath and entered the chamber of council, standing by Sansa’s side. Yohn Royce frowned but cleared his throat and spoke as the door closed behind them. 

‘Your Grace,’ Yohn Royce started as he focused on the young Queen he once advised and pivoted like he did with the Lord by his side. ‘Your courage and beauty can be matched only by your wit and resilience.’ Lord Royce added and Sansa sighed but smiled, she needed to put an end it to  all before things went out of hand. 

‘Matched by the kindness, wit and strength of my dear cousin Robin,’ Sansa interrupted. She was glad she was the Queen, allowed to interrupt men as she thought fit. ‘And I am certain the lady married to my dear cousin will be the happiest in the world.’ Sansa added pointedly, making Lord Royce frown at her words. ‘But my life, my care lays with a cause different and time consuming,’ Sansa put the rejection before the proposal could be heard. 

‘The  _ restore  _ of the North?’ Yohn Royce asked, looking at Jon with a pointant and poisonous glare. Sansa could only lower her head for a moment, she had to play her cards wisely. She wouldn’t speak of the dragons, not until Bran would to his Lords and Ladies, for now it was a state secret. 

‘Exactly, my Lord,’ Sansa replied the old man, Robin had been silent out of lack of skill in diplomacy, Jon had been silent out of respect for her position, he was the Warden, she was the Queen. She had to put things straight with her allies and enemies, she would draw the words and he would draw the swords. ‘The North is independent, the North remembers. I am the symbol of that independence. I need time to establish my rule and this won’t happen by marrying someone of the South, even if he’s my dearest cousin here.’ Sansa smiled at Robin who foolishly smiled back. Jon wasn’t sure if the man understood he was being denied. ‘I’m the first woman to be Regent,’ Sansa added, no pride and no arrogance, simply the truth painted her voice. ‘That was hard to swallow for some, marrying a foreigner would only make things worse for me,’ Sansa added and glanced at her own councilors. ‘I’m requested to have heirs, many of them in case the winter takes some of them.’ Sansa added coldly, Jon marvelled at the way she spoke so coldly over something so tender for her. ‘But they will have to be Northerners, they have to be of a Northern father, a man noble and powerful enough to secure their claim after I am gone. The North is like ice sometimes, slipper and able to break your neck just by hitting it.’ Sansa added and Jon could see she had taken many lessons from Cersei Lannister, Littlefinger and Tyrion Lannister. 

‘Is this why you have Jon Snow here?’ Yohn Royce asked angrily at her rejection and Sansa looked at him with sober eyes. 

‘Jon  _ Stark _ is my cousin, Commander of the Queenguard, the Warden of the North and the saviour of us all. If he hadn’t stopped first the dead and then the Dragon Queen we’d all be either living dead or piles of ashes…’ Sansa added Yohn Royce didn’t seem ready to back down. Jon remained silent, he had been insulted before, as a bastard, as a usurper, as a crow, he could keep his calm. 

‘Aegon Targaryen, your once brother, a bastard, a southern born, King of the North, Jon the Bender. So many names for a man cannot possibly show good things for said man.’ Yohn Royce added and Sansa this time nodded. 

‘Sansa Stark, Lannister and Bolton, Traitor, the whore, a King murderer, Lady of Winterfell, bitch, Ice-Queen, Bastard, the Raped, Sansa I. So many names and yet I’m all and none of them.’ Sansa added and Jon only closed his eyes slowly at the bitter taste of the insults she inflicted upon herself, passing her point for him. Yohn Royce had paled at the mention of such words. 

‘I meant no insult…’ he tried to say but Sansa smiled. 

‘And none was taken, I was merely trying to pass my point, my Lord. Sansa explained. 

‘A Targaryen cannot be trusted, he was present when we said that before… and he bent the knee of the North to another Targaryen.’ Royce was trying desperately and Sansa fought hard not to speak of the impending doom of the Dragons, how Jon’s Targaryen blood would be their only chance to save them all from a bane that felt like the Dragon Queen’s very ghost. This would have to wait, after the made sure the contacted Bran, after they had some progress of Jon taming the beasts, otherwise fear and panic would be spread like wildfire. 

‘He bent the knee like our ancestors bent their own knees to the Targaryens, like you, my Lord, bent the knee to me when you gave me the Vale after Baelish’ execution…’ Sansa’s tone was smooth but her words were sharp as any blade. ‘Jon is a Stark, raised here, defending this very castle from the dead, born in the south, where he killed the Dragon Queen to ensure our survival from the madness.’ Sansa was calm as she spoke the truth. ‘If a bastard kills a Queen, he’s a shamed murderer, but if he’s King himself, he becomes the rightful heir…’ Sansa commented the truth. ‘I pardoned him like he pardoned the Ubers and Karstarks. I trust him like I trusted you, my Lord into giving the Vale to Robin, where it belonged because even if you had bent the knee to me, it had been for the people with honor. And Jon Stark even took a knife to the heart for honor…’ Only then, Sansa tore her eyes from the older man to glance at her beloved. Jon remained stoic but he knew his eyes flickered with fire for her, with love and respect. ‘We all need to be where we belong, and Jon Stark belongs in the North with me.’ Sansa concluded, leaving no space for argument, ending the conversation and avoiding a diplomatic incident among the kingdoms. 

‘You truly are the daughter of your father and mother,’ Lord Royce finally spoke the words, admitting defeat as Sansa only smiled and glanced at Jon who half smiled at her, trying to remain composed. Tyrion and the Northern Lords watched with concern but no surprise in their eyes. 

‘My father always said the truth,’ Sansa lied effortlessly in her struggle to keep her father’s memory high, even if he slipped from her own like one of her ghosts. ‘The Winters are hard but the Starks will endure. We always have.’ Sansa added true words of her father and Jon could only endure the heat that started boiling within him. 

_ The Pack Survives.  _

He was of that pack, along his she-wolf. 

The small gathering was over before anything else could be said. The men decided to return at the feast. They’d stay a few days and leave, keeping it simple into a royal visit of having the ties between the North and the Vale. No need for either of the houses to be humiliated or forced. Jon followed Sansa as they reached the Queen’s quarters, Jon closed and barred the door behind them. 

Sansa took off the crown and left it on the desk full of scrolls. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She turned and looked at Jon the moment he approached her, claiming her lips into a heated kiss. She knew she had touched him with her words but they were the truth. His hands were roaming her back, playing with the laces of her dress like her own fumbled with his own clothes. 

Her body was full of scars, the thought snapped inside her passion-filled mind, begging to be taken into consideration, in vain. Pain, fear, blood, these thoughts almost worked but weren’t enough as the couple moved towards the large bed. They both had been through so much and now they found themselves into a mess of undressing, kissing, biting and touching. Heat and desire pooled low in Sansa’s belly, for the first time in her life because of a man. The sound of some thread being ripped from her dress as she and Jon collapsed on the bed, snapped her out of the kiss and had her hands touching against his chest as he towered above her, all the warning bells signaling panic in her mind and body as their forms lay heavy and gasping against each other.

‘Never rip my clothes,’ she gasped against his lips. ‘Never,’ she commanded breathlessly, images of Joffrey’s brute guard ripping her dress as he abused her snapped in her head, married with the images of Ramsay Bolton ripping her clothes before he could torture her. She had promised him he’d be forgotten and she cursed her mind for bringing him back, in that moment between her and Jon of all times. 

Jon searched her eyes, saw the panic and memories there. He could imagine, he hadn’t seen the details embed on her skin, but he could imagine why she acted up, why torn fabric triggered her more than heated kisses and intimate touches while on a bed. He knew post-traumatic fear, he understood. 

‘Never, I promise,’ his words were low and sincere. Sansa closed her eyes and nodded her head, reassuring herself before she could launch for another kiss, eager to discover his body but her pause had awakened something inside him, something that had to do with both of them. 

‘No, not like this,’ he whispered as he held her by the shoulders and only pecked her lips even if she demanded more. The blue of her eyes was darker with desire and confusion. ‘Not like this,’ he repeated and this time Sansa tried her best to clear her head and comprehend. He wouldn’t take advantage of their emotional state. He wouldn’t scare and stress her by doing things that had been only painful and awful to her. He wouldn’t jeopardise her honor and the chance of putting a bastard child inside her womb, she had spoken of heirs and a man by her side, of only one proposal she’d accept. 

‘Jon…’ she whispered his name and that sound was all he needed. 

‘Marry me.’ he demanded and remained calm at her widening eyes. ‘Be my wife and let me love you, bed you and worship you as you deserve, Sansa.’ he added his promise at the beautiful woman in his arms. Damn the waiting and the people needing time. Any time three bloody dragons could invade Westeros and they’d all die like half the people of King’s Landing. There was no time and no reason to waste it. They would find their ways while in secret wedlock, she’d be secured, he’d be content, a babe of theirs would be legal, their house’s future. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOH yes he did it! a secret wedding is upon us!!! woooot lol I wanted this chapter to have a bit of everything, the jar sansa hid for example, or another gift from her to him, jealous jon is cinnamon bun and I can't, I wanted political sansa and showing who will use the words and who the swords as they should. I also wanted some intimacy after the words spoken about the two of them  
> what do you tihnk guys??? pardon any errors it's 2:36 am here <3 comments? suggestions? objections?  
> thank you for reading!


	11. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for the comments on the previous chapter, here is the biggest chapie so far and my personal fave, all the things I wanted to add and see are here, the rating has been changed to EXPLICIT so you have been warned ;)

_Chapter Eleven - First Time_

 

 _‘Marry me,’_  he’s expectant, dark eyes begged of her to comprehend and consider, to accept and act. Sansa gasped as he moved from above her, where they had ended up on her bed in a tangle of limbs and heavy clothes. 

‘Yes,’ her lips finally caught up with her mind and heart, whispering what they screamed. She was rewarded with the most sincere and large smile he ever had seen on Jon’s face, her heart was racing. Her third marriage, to him. Wasn’t it just a few days ago she was dreading the moment she’d see him again, fearing his remorse and anger, yearning for her own wrath upon him. 

‘Tonight, everyone is at the feast, no one at the godswood.’ Jon offered and Sansa could see his own nervousness. Spontaneous was something the Starks were not. They had established an unspoken rule of going slowly, that rule had just been tossed out the window. They had reunited for a few days, lost each other for more than a year due to their banes and known each other forever. 

‘We need someone of trust.’ Sansa only pointed out, the marriage before the Old Gods was valid enough for them but they needed someone to stand witness and keep evidence of it, a proof like the one Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark had made sure of making to ensure their union. Sansa gulped down the knot in her throat at the idea of how similar steps she took with the rest of her family, Lyanna had been married secretly, Robb had been married away from his people, with someone not many approved. ‘Maester Wolkan,’ Sansa finally replied in the haste of her thoughts and Jon nodded but with a small frown. 

‘You trust him?’ Jon asked, Sansa to his surprise even in the past after reclaiming Winterfell, had trusted the Bolton’s Maester and he had always wished to ask why. 

‘He had showed mercy…. Given me herbs not to conceive.’ Sansa’s eyes lowered to her own body, Jon nodded, he had to thank the man for his kindness, a bastard of Ramsay Bolton would have been Sansa’s undoing. ‘Ever since, he’s been making sure of my recovery.’ Sansa explained with the same shadow on her face. She fought so hard to forget the name and the memories, the pain and desperation. She tried so hard to remember only the sweet taste of revenge, instead of the bitter touch of torture. She felt Jon’s hand on her chin lifting it up and kissing her lips. 

‘Maester Wolkan and the two of us then, I’m going to find him, if you trot in the Great Hall we’ll draw every eye on us. But everyone must be drunk by now ,’ Jon tried to pull her away from the shadows of her past, he achieved it. She nodded shakily as a thought invaded her mind. 

‘I have no wedding dress,’ she whispered and Jon smiled at her lovingly. She seemed so young and worried over something so trivial in his own eyes. He smiled and kissed her again, his heart racing at what they were about to do. She deserved a beautiful wedding, he wished he could give her that. 

‘Do you have your coronation dress? I never had the chance to see you in it….’ Jon tried to find a solution and she smiled and nodded. The most beautiful dress she had worn, the gown of her pride and joy after so much pain. It was perfect, if she was able to wear it without assistance, assistance would spread the news like wildfire. ‘I’m going to fetch him, I’ll find you at the Godswood?’ Jon asked and Sansa took a shaky breath. She was getting married, to the man she loved for so long. 

‘Yes, go,’ she whispered, still in awe of how her most secret dreams became reality so perfectly abruptly. He was ready to leave from her proximity when she stopped him with a firm hand on his arm, he turned and looked at her again, for a moment fear flicked in his eyes at her change of mind, most likely. 

‘I love you too,’ she answered the words she had never spoken to anyone, answering his words from earlier that day. He still wore her gift, the furs she made for him, he looked as regal, he looked perfect and he was hers. He smiled and took both her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. 

‘Don’t take too long with the dress. You look beautiful no matter what.’ he replied finally, happy, _joyous_ Sansa could see and she smiled and nodded as he left the room, leaving her rushing to a trunk she had by the end of her bed. She opened it and raised the delicate layers of fabric. She started undressing quickly, pulling at laces to release herself from the blue dress and wear her regal gown. She couldn’t help but chuckle in nervousness and delight at what she was doing. Jon was giving her life, little by little, melting the icy walls she had erected around her years before she became Queen of the North. He didn’t realize it but he was making her feel alive, happy and carefree in ways she’d never allow herself to ever be again. 

She remained in her shift and for a moment she gave pause, looking at her reflection on the looking glass. The bun of her hair had been spoiled from her own pillows, she’d let it down and brush it, leave it in its waves, no time to straighten it like in her coronation. However her eyes travelled from the reflection to her actual body as she traced her fingers over the light fabric. Maester Wolkan’s mercy had extended on concoctions for her scars, so many scars, and she still needed time, time she didn’t have. She took a deep breath as she hoped -knew- Jon would understand, he wouldn’t be disgusted or appalled. The thought unnerved her, a man in her bed, _Jon_ in her bed, before her scars and all her fears, her lack of experience and comfort. 

She knew he had scars himself, of death and betrayal, of fire and ice. He had been through so much, but she knew she’d love his scars, like she loved the rest of him. Both being broken, orphaned, tortured and pained, and only left with one another to mend the wounds and heal the scars. 

She struggled in her coronation dress. Too many laces, too many layers, too many extra things she had worn that day, with the assistance of three ladies. It had been easier to stand still and have the rest assemble the cloth on her. The door’s knock made her gasp in shock as she found herself half dressed in her coronation gown, hair half wild and face flashed from the effort and thoughts. 

‘Who is it?’ she called out, her voice as cold as possible. 

‘Your Grace? May I come in?’ Brienne’s voice made her exhale in relief as she shut her eyes for a moment before they could snap open again, an idea coming in her mind. 

‘Brienne, come in and shut the door, bar it.’ Sansa spoke the command as the knight complied, laying surprised eyes at the sight of the young queen half dressed in a gown that by description, fitted the one the ravens spoke of for her coronation. 

‘What are you doing?’ Brienne asked boldy, informally as she frowned at the young woman she once was sworn to protect and still felt the need to take care of. She had noticed the men retreating with the Queen. She had seen everyone but her and Jon Stark returning. Then she saw the young man reaching for the Maester of Winterfell and leaving the Great Hall. She had been afraid for Sansa and had decided to find her and make sure she was alright. Finding her alone and half dressed in such gown was the last thing the She Knight had expected, therefore the question without formalities. 

‘I…’ Sansa calculated her choices. Brienne would die before she could betray her. Brienne was one of the very few people she trusted deeply, and even one of the fewer who were there that night. ‘I’m getting married to Jon, tonight, secretly and I need your help, with my dress and escort to the Godswood.’ Sansa replied as honestly as she could and saw the million questions and objections that rose in the blond woman’s clear eyes, the slightest of frowns when something was out of place. She knew of the dragons and she knew of Sansa’s feelings towards Jon, she knew it all, she had been there through everything. She finally took a deep breath, in her golden armor and polished boots. As if in agreement, she was the closest thing Sansa would have to someone from the family giving her away to Jon, she had guarded her, Arya and currently served as Bran’s Commander of the Kingsguard, it’d be fitting if she gave her away to her own Commander of the Queensguard and Warden of the North. 

‘Oh alright, turn around,’ Brienne finally gave in, making Sansa beam at the much needed help, trust and lack of objections and questions. Brienne reached for the laces, tightening the delicate strings, she was a little clumsy with the sleeves and the buttons but she was successful, helping Sansa with the extra fabrics and black fur around her. Sansa let her hair down, the easiest choice as Brienne wouldn’t be able to help with it. She reached and wore her crown, she would be every bit of herself that night. The two women looked at each other for a long moment as Sansa was dressed as the North’s Queen again and Brienne was in her armor. They nodded at each other and left the quarters. Brienne moved forward, making sure no one saw them until the back exit of the castle, thankfully both women knew the place so well. 

The voices were loud from the Great Hall, by that late hour, everyone was gathered for the feast, a proper chance to be wasted in alcohol. Sansa thanked her luck for the Northern ways of entertainment. They reached the Godswood easily, the night was clear, crisp, the stars and waxing moon illuminating the red leaves of the weirwood. Sansa could see the two figures in its shade, her heart skipped a bit and she paused, her breath caught in her throat.

Brienne stood proud by her side as the ice gripped Sansa’s heart. She had stopped praying a long time ago, to the Seven, the faith of her Mother, or the Godwood of her father. She was done with all that, as she had told Littlefinger once, under the same tree.

_‘The Gods have no mercy, that’s why they are Gods.’_

Cersei Lannister had been right, they had showed no mercy while she had been through it all, they had showed no mercy for Jon and what he had been through. 

Under the weirwood’s leaves she had learnt of Jon’s parentage, before the old Gods she had vowed to keep a secret she then betrayed. Under that tree her father found peace of mind, just like she did occasionally. She had reunited with Bran under the tree. Through that very tree Bran would now help them overcome their new banes. Sansa tried to take a deep breath.

Brienne waited, knowing when Sansa needed time and when she needed a push. Sansa’s eyes shut at the memory of herself in another night, it was snowing then, as Theon led her to the Monster her second husband had been. She felt the terror paralyzing her, she had been a bride sold like cattle, she had been a child bride before that, now she stood willingly before the Gods her line believed in. She wanted desperately this time to be truly blessed, to be shown mercy for the rest of her life. 

She opened her eyes again, adjusting on the two shadows as another, large and four legged creature appeared. Ghost stood by the figure Sansa knew was Jon. They loved each other, they’d never harm one another. It was only in her mind and heart the ghosts remained and plagued her. She had to overcome them, maybe the Gods indeed showed mercy, by bring Jon back, by giving them both a second chance. Maybe, just maybe, even without prayer, she had been heard. 

Sansa nodded and Brienne saw the determination returning in the young Queen’s bones, the female knight started walking, Sansa followed, her body relaxing, her mind ready. She walked towards Jon and with every step closer, his face became clearer in the shadows and her heart felt lighter. At last this was her choice, with the man she loved, as she approached her future husband, she realized both had to leave the past behind them. They were to be one from that night on. 

Jon watched as Sansa approached with his breath stolen. She was beautiful in her coronation gown, the dress of their wedding. It was days before, when he returned from the North, bitter and alone, and now he found himself marrying the love of his life. He knew she would pause before she could come to him, it was a journey she had to do on her own, like he had done his while beyond the Wall. They needed to salvage what was left of them if they wished to live the rest of their days content, no matter how many days these might be. 

With every step she took towards him, Jon took in the details of her dress under the moonlight. The Tully scales and blue color for her mother. The weirwood leaves on her long sleeves for her father and Bran. Her crown, Jon now realized was also for Robb, the side-cloak for Arya, the end of it was shaggy, for Rickon. But the black she wore above it all was for him, covering her side, as he intended to do himself. It was for her entire family and he had been included, she always included him. 

‘Who comes before the Old Gods this night?’ Maester Wolkan asked softly, snapping Jon out of his stupor, his mesmerized eyes going to hers, she smiled at him, almost shyly. 

‘Queen Sansa first of her Name, comes here to be wed.’ Brienne replied with honor and pride in her voice. She was a Southern, believing in the Seven but she respected the place more than so many people in the North. ‘A woman honorable and just, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods.’ Brienne added and Sansa kept her eyes on Jon’s, she knew if she tore her gaze away, the ghosts would plague her. ‘Who comes to claim her?’ Brienne added the question. Sansa kept her eyes on her future husband as he reached closer, he was clad in the furs she had given him that morning. He had left his hair down, his wild curls had been missed and loved by her. 

‘Jon of House Stark,’ Jon replied, his voice deep and clear, leaving behind his past as Snow, neglecting his bloodline as Targaryen, even if it was the only chance they had against the threat from the East. ‘Warden of the North and Commander of the Queensguard,’ He added the titles she had given him, accepting himself as what he truly felt proud of. His actions had allowed her to become the first Queen of the North, her actions allowed him back to his home and with titles he loved more than being King. ‘Who gives her?’ he added the question and Brienne spoke. 

‘Brienne, of House Tarth, Knight of the Six Kingdoms and Commander of the Kingsguard of Bran the Broken.’ Brienne replied and at that moment a flattering had the four people snap their heads over the direction of a raven that flew in the branches and looked down upon them, three eyes and a screech worthy of their attention. 

_‘You were exactly where you were supposed to be.’_

_  
_ _‘You were so beautiful that night.’_

Both Sansa and Jon looked intently at the three-eyed-raven, of course Bran would knew, had always known. The creature that once was their baby brother was watching them now, knowing long before themselves, for him, the past, present and future collided into a never ending spiral. 

‘Your Grace,’ Maester Wolkan pulled both Jon and Sansa back to the moment as they both refocused on each other. ‘Will you take this man?’ the maester asked and Sansa didn’t waste a moment. This was the only good thing happening to her in ages, if not ever.

‘I take this man,’ Sansa replied steadily as she smiled at Jon who beamed at her. 

‘Lord Stark,’ Maester Wolkan looked at Jon who smiled. ‘Will you take this woman?’ he asked and Jon spoke before the maester could finish his words. 

‘I take this woman,’ Jon replied happily as he reached for Sansa and she took his hand in hers, they both reached the tree’s face, knelt down before it and touched their hands close to it, this was the first time kneeling after a long time for the both of them and it wouldn’t be for any other reason but to beg for the blessing of the gods. Sansa closed her eyes and tried to remember how to pray, what to say and think of as she touched the tree. 

_A robust, handsome man with dark hair, by the side of a beautiful tall woman, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, a chamber dressed in the Stark colors._

Sansa’s eyes snapped open with a gasp at the image that flashed through her eyes, she looked quickly at the three-eyed raven above them as it took off from the branches. She gasped as she tried to keep the image in her mind’s eye. Was that an image from Bran? Was it a true blessing of the Gods? 

 Sansa looked at Jon who seemed to have the same shock etched over his face. They had both seen the man and the woman. Jon finally smiled at Sansa and stood first, reached for the furs she had given him as a gift, took them off and cloaked her. As he bowed down above her kneeling form he kissed the shell of her ear. 

‘I love you more than life itself.’ he whispered before he could offer her both his hands for her to take and stand before him, they looked at the only witnesses of their union as Ghost howled. 

‘May the Gods bless you, from root to stem, may you always be prosperous.’ Maester Wolkan finally spoke the final words for their union as Jon and Sansa leaned closer at the same time, their lips touching in a gentle kiss.  

They left the godswood as quietly as they could. The Maester would take care of the proof of marriage, Brienne returned to the Great Hall as not to draw the attention of Podric or Tyrion and Sansa and Jon rushed to her quarters. Dressed regally and strolling around the castle would cause havoc. 

They closed and barred the door together, smiles all over their faces as they reached for each other. Between kisses, caresses and hands roaming on each other they reached for Sansa’s bed. They wore so many layers of clothes. They chuckled through their kiss as they struggled with their gloves, furs and cloaks. 

  
‘Wait…’ Sansa tried as Jon pulled her closer to him, making her laugh as he nipped at her neck, ticklish, he loved it. ‘We need to get rid of some of the clothes.’ she added breathlessly as she gave up struggling with the belt that held Longclaw by his side. Jon nodded and reached for her crown first. They paused their playful games as he took it slowly off her fiery red hair, smiling at her as he set it by her nightstand. They synchronized as he reached for the laces of her sleeves and she reattempted the belt. Holding Longclaw and the belt and carefully setting it aside. It felt like a ritual she had never taken part in. Next it was their boots, again through some laughter and holding each other for support as they discarded them. 

Layer by layer they unwrapped each other as if they were Yule gifts, until she was left in her sheer shift and he was in his breeches and shirt. They came together in an embrace again, hands exploring their bodies with only one layer to go. Jon’s lips traveled from her swollen lips to her chin, collarbone and neck, sucking, nipping, kissing and licking until Sansa was pushing her body against him, moaning his name, the throbbing between her legs becoming unbearable. She actually enjoyed the hardness she felt against her hip as they held each other, his desire for her was rewarding, refreshing.

 Her hands moved beneath his shirt and stopped abruptly as her fingertips came in contact with his chest. Her eyes, dark and ready urged him on and he took off the shirt, revealing the stabbing wounds to her gaze and touch. 

Markings, deep cuts, all gathered on the left, more than three, married with older and newer ones. He had died, yet he was there, with her, for her, for them. Sansa leaned down and kissed his chest, making him inhale as his hands feasted in her red mane. She closed her eyes as her lips touched his chest, wishing to elevate the pain, betrayal and death. He guided her head back up, their foreheads touched as they breathed each other’s air. 

He wanted her, so much, he wanted her since he saw her for the first time at Castle Black, he wanted to eliminate every man close to her, to possess her, he was hers and she was his. His hands moved to the laces that kept her shift on her body, the first scars were visible from the sleeves that had slipped up her arms, he wanted her no matter what had been craved upon her skin. 

‘Let me…’ Jon begged and demanded against Sansa’s lips as he pulled at the lace. He’d never tear a cloth off her, he had promised. He’d always be gentle, even if passionate, he’s always be tender. 

Sansa took a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the sheer fabric slipping off her body. Her reflex was to reach for it, keep it against her but Jon pulled carefully at it until it fell to her feet. Sansa’s eyes studied his face as he took in her sight, there was no remorse, no disgust, only awe as he studied her.

Cuts from blades, burns from scalding iron and charcoal, whip marks, all of them glistening in the dim light, well taken care off with herbs, they should be angry and red, they were soft and uncolored, almost gone from her skin but not from her soul. 

‘Jon… say something,’ Sansa begged in a whisper and Jon looked up at her with the same admiration in his eyes, the same love. 

‘Beautiful,’ he whispered back, finally finding the first word he could use. ‘Perfect,’ he added, he wasn’t good with words but that much he could express, the truth. Her perfect body, her full breasts, her skin that worked like a map to victory over all their banes, the auburn curls between her legs, she was perfect indeed.  He guided her to sit on the mattress, kissing her until she had leaned down, her hair spread over the furs of her bed, her legs slightly open for him to nestle in between. ‘Let me worship you, let me love you, San,’ Jon whispered as he caressed her cheek, causing her eyes to close as she exhaled. 

‘I’ve… I’ve never before…’ Sansa tried to explain. She wasn’t a virgin, she wasn’t a satisfied woman either. Jon nodded, he understood, he could help with that, he _would_ help every night if Sansa wished him to. He had no gifts to give to his bride, but this could be considered something close to it. His lips and hands traveled all over her. His lips sucking at her pulse point, making her gasp as his hands moved to her hips, ribs and then kneaded one breast gingerly, making her moan. He wouldn’t lick and kiss every scar, not that night, not while he wanted this to be about the two of them and no one else. His lips reached her other breast, leaving a trail of fire behind them as he took one nipple into his mouth, he sucked swiftly, causing Sansa to moan his name and bend her body, pushing her breasts to him in need. She liked it and he loved her for it, for relaxing and trusting him. 

She didn’t close her eyes, she needed to keep her eyes on him, making sure it was him, no pain would come in the next moment, she reminded herself. Her hands caressed his face, shoulders, wherever she reached although she wanted to reach for her own body too, the throbbing between her legs so unfamiliar and so blissfully annoying at the same time, she tried but Jon caught her hand at her hip. 

‘Patience, my love,’ he whispered, bringing her hand to the wet skin of her breasts, sucking her fingers into his mouth, her own lips fell agape at the gesture, her skin was on fire, her body begging for him.  Desire, all the unresolved tension she felt every time she saw him, pooling at her stomach and chest, now was moving between her legs, she wanted him, for the first time in her life, she truly desired. The feeling felt like hot liquid running through her veins. 

‘Please,’ she gasped in need for more. She had gasped her pleading before, only then it was for the end of the torture. Now she begged for more pleasure. Jon kissed once again the swell of her breast before he could keep grazing his teeth against her flat belly, causing her to chuckle. 

Too ticklish, he loved that about her, exploring parts only he was to know, her husband, her man. He kissed the spot by her belly button, looking up at her, a prime need to see her belly swollen with child awoke within him, his breeches were already impossibly tight. He reached with one hand to open them as with the other, he reached for her legs, pushing them open as Sansa propped herself on her elbows, she needed to watch him, he could see in her darkened eyes, not only out of fear, but also out of passion and desire. 

He breathed in relief as he freed himself from his breeches, they slipped down his hips as he pushed Sansa’s legs open, bent at the knee as he reached for the red curls there. He smiled at her as he opened her lips gently, blowing gently at her center, making her jerk at the sensation. He looked at her glistening body, he could see another scar there, from a blade. His heart ached at the pain she must had felt. He wanted to kiss away all the agony and bring her pleasure, bliss, happiness. 

Sansa gasped as Jon wrapped one arm around her leg, holding her in place and keeping her body to him, he sucked hungrily at the nub of nerves, making her gasp and moan, her hand reached for his dark curls, falling over her red ones, the other still propped her body upwards but her hand reached for her breast, touching herself like she had never before while Jon licked, lapped and sucked at her as if she was the most delicious fruit in Westeros. 

She arched her body as Jon slipped one finger inside her, she moaned her pleasure, his name, her voice loud yet broken in ecstasy. Her hand finally gave in and she fell back on the mattress, her body moving on its own against his mouth. Jon was dutiful, precise, unstopping as he licked at her, moving his hand the right way, adding a second finger inside her, making her scream. 

‘Jon!’ her voice was changed, Jon was making her body react in ways she had never imagined, the pressure within her belly broke into waves of tingling ecstasy as she climaxed against his mouth, her toes curling, her back arching off the mattress, her head falling back as she moaned her pleasure. 

Her body was still shivering as she felt Jon moving above her, his cock brushing against her inner thigh. Her mind was still blissfully hasty as she felt him pushing within her in a swift motion of his hips. His lips on hers, his hand already touching the nub of nerves between her legs. Her oversensitive breasts rubbing against his chest, he was everywhere and she loved it.

No discomfort, no fear, no memory, no ghost. Only her body against his, moving in a rhythm of pleasure, their tongues dancing in the same tune. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs around his hips, allowing him deeper inside her. Jon groaned her name, breaking the kiss and resting his head on her collarbone as he thrust inside her evenly, his skillful fingers trying to take her high again. 

‘Sansa… love!’ Jon gasped through his own pleasure, her body was so responsive, so eager to give in pleasure. She was no virgin but this was her actual first time, _their_ first time and it was amazing. He rubbed at her nub faster, making her groan.

‘I can’t… so quickly,’ she tried to explain but he grinned at her, almost wolfishly as he claimed her lips with his. 

‘You can, you will, San,’ he commanded against her lips and she couldn’t help it, his even thrusts, his fingers on her, his kisses, their love, their union. She felt her body giving in to the pleasure once again as the pleasure washed over her, this time he silenced her scream with his lips, his thrusts losing rhythm as he was approaching his own climax. Sansa held onto him with her legs and hands, caressing his body, pushing his arse to her, making him thrust harder in her, her other hand in his hair as he gasped against her shoulder. 

‘Spend inside me, Jon,’ she gasped her deepest desire as he pulled his sweaty face to look into her eyes, she nodded breathlessly. ‘Please, husband,’ she rasped out the words, reassuring him. They were married, they were winners in the game, the price won was each other. 

Her voice, throaty and deep, her beautiful eyes, her parted lips, her body against his, legs and arms wrapped around him, her wet core like a hot glove around him as he thrust in and out. She was too much, she was too good, she was everything. His eyes shut on their own as he thrust against her, cumming inside her, as she had requested. His own shout of pleasure hushed by her lips as sanity had returned in her brain and wished to keep them unnoticed. As he collapsed against her breasts he would swear they had been heard by everyone. He closed his eyes at the realisation of not caring in the slightest. He had just bedded his wife, his queen and love, the world be damned. 

Sansa remained on her back, his black curls tickled her chest. He pulled out of her, she longed for the fullness she had felt with him inside her. A lazy hand reached for his face, tracing his jaw and lips before she could slightly yelp as he caught her finger with his teeth, teasing her. She looked down at him as he looked up at her and released her finger. 

‘You’re alright?’ he asked softly, worry and fear lacing his voice. She nodded with a smile as she reached her head forward for a quick kiss before she could let her head back on the mattress. 

‘I’m just fine,’ she reassured him and he grinned and this time he reached for her, locking their lips in a kiss. 

‘I love you, San,’ Jon whispered as he studied her flushed face, she looked beautiful post-pleasure. He intended on seeing her like that more often. ‘My wife,’ he tried the word and loved it, she was his family, not only by blood but also by choice, they were each other’s family, the only family they had been left. That family could be expanded, he would never have bastard children, he knew the fate, but now he was married, before Gods and Men. Sansa was his wife, he needed some time to realise his luck, his fortune. 

‘I love you too,’ Sansa whispered, he looked happy, younger, alive. ‘Husband,’ Sansa added the new title and Jon grinned at her, the word sparking desire within him, desire Sansa felt stirring against her stomach. ‘No…’ she whispered in astonishment as his grin broadened and he started moving to her breasts. ‘So soon?’ she asked in awe and he only nodded ‘Husband,’ she repeated the word with a wolfish grin of her own and he groaned against her breast. 

He had discovered her ticklish spots, she had just discovered a triggering word. Their marital life would be blissful, of that they were certain. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo many things happened!! the babies got married! I wanted everything added, I wanted them getting secretly married with a full godswood marriage, i wanted a small glimpse of the future (?) I wanted Bran there in a way and I wanted their marriage consummated. Sansa pushing back most of her trauma, dealing with the new reality of loving her husband, Jon there for her, I wanted something special for them and I hope you liked it :) comments? thoughts? thank you for reading!


	12. Uncertainty and Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer's block sucks and when it happens for more than three months it's simply awful, I hope people can still stick to it, if you're new to this fic, welcome, for the ones coming back i'm so sorry for the hiatus, the muse simply stopped whispering ideas on it. now she feels like writing again and she decided so at 3 am, not it's 5:37 so I hope the errors are not too glaring!

Chapter Twelve - Uncertainty and Joy

  
  
  


‘Jon…’ his name was a broken moan as her back arched, eyes closing, lips gasping in pleasure. Jon was above, he found the chance, his lips nipping at Sansa’s throat, kissing and groaning as he felt her body convulsing against him, around him as he thrust within her. 

‘I can’t-hold back,’ he struggled with the words, his spine was already bending forward, his body tightening. 

‘Inside me,’ Sansa could only command, in a broken voice, as her legs remained wrapped around Jon’s hips who lost rhythm as he groaned her name, his final thrusts uneven against her. 

They were both left gasping against each other, the pale morning light was bathing their room as the sun climbed its path on the sky. He felt brighter, the light more powerful as Spring approached. 

Jon moved next to Sansa, collapsing face down before he could move on the furs, pulling her closer. She went willingly, her naked body soon covered with the furs he pulled above them, she snuggled closer to him, relying on his warmth, his very presence. 

They had been married the previous night, out of their strategies and out of their planning, they had dared to act upon their feelings, upon their desires instead of their complicated thoughts. The fact of a dragon going rampant any moment against them put things in perspective, they had to live, not just exist, they were done simply existing. 

Jon trailed a finger on her cheek, her eyes closing at his touch. Husband and wife, Warden and Queen, Kingsguard and Ruler. Jon and Sansa. 

‘Sans…’ Jon whispered, causing her to open her Tully blue eyes and look at him, she was happy, and he couldn’t be happier himself but he needed to get in that complicated mind of hers and see her planning. His hand moved within the furs, brushing against her flat stomach, she giggled, always ticklish, he smiled even if he was worried about how to vocalize his thoughts. 

‘Tell me,’ Sansa prompted and he smiled and the arm on her stomach moved around her waist to bring her ever closer. 

‘Are we trying for a babe?’ he asked hesitantly. He wouldn’t bother, but they had agreed on going slowly, and they had gotten married. They had agreed they’d give the realm time, and if they continued like they had been doing since they returned from the Godswood, after the blessing of the gods, Jon was sure Sansa would soon be swelling. He would love to, he would absolutely cherish her and their babe but with Drogon on the loose, things would become more complicated if the dragons returned and he failed to tame the beasts while Sansa could be pregnant or their child was born already. The burden of saving Westeros from the dragons felt light before the failure he could face if he lost Sansa and their children. 

‘I’m not sure what we’re trying to do,’ Sansa admitted with a smile and even though he loved her carefree moments, he had to have a plan in common for their future. 

Sansa knew she would be foolish to fall pregnant now, she was married in secret, with her cousin who had just returned, a return that could cause upheaval in Essos with the Dothraki and Unsullied along some areas in Westeros. Three Dragons were messing around in Valyria and could come back any day for their only tamer, to either bend to him or eat him alive. And that man was her cousin and her husband and her Warden, the Commander of her Queensguard and love, he shouldn’t be the father of her children so fast. She would give her life for the North and for him, but a child would cloud her judgment, her desperation to protect her offspring could make her vulnerable and there were still so many enemies around them. She had seen how Cersei Lannister fell apart because she had divided herself into three more beings. She had learnt a great deal of lessons from the Lion at King’s Landing, she had to be smarter.

She sighed and trailed her own finger on his cheek until she reached his raven beard. She smiled and stole a kiss. They would soon have to get ready. Tyrion Lannister was leaving Winterfell for the South, along Brienne and Pod, among friends departing, a thorn on their side was finally removing itself, even if that thorn counseled Bran. 

They still had Robyn as royal guest and a thousand duties to take care of as Queen and Warden. And they had to act as if nothing had happened. Brienne was trustworthy, so was Maester Wolkan, they wouldn’t be betrayed, only they had to pretend, and they had mastered that act. 

 

_ ‘I’m loyal to my beloved Prince Joffrey.’ _

 

_ ‘She’ll be a good Queen.’  _

 

‘I’ll ask Maester Wolkan to give me Moon Tea, along his mending paste for my scars.’ Sansa reassured Jon who nodded, his finger tracing one of said scars on her forearms, Sansa glanced at it, used to them, she used to look in disdain, in pain, in disgust. For the past year, especially since the healing paste stopped them from being all red and angry, she considered them honors of her survival skills. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Jon felt the need to reassure her, she was stunning, her scars were creating a map he was more than willing to learn by heart. He loved every inch of her, without them, she wouldn’t be her and he loved her with all his heart. 

‘I know,’ Sansa acknowledged with a grin that had him tickling her again. He adored her laugh, filling the walls of her chambers and when the time was right, he would love to hear the laughter of their children too, but not yet. They would first right the world, pave the path for their children to come into a better world than the one they did and survived through monsters, winged and otherwise. 

They had made sure to be ready before the first maid could come knocking, they had asked to break their fast in Sansa’s solar. The maid had been surprised to find them there already, over scrolls, solving state affairs before Tyrion’s departure. 

Their meal was in comfortable silence, their first meal as husband and wife. Jon even brought a grape close to Sansa’s lips and she took the fruit in, kissing his finger, causing him to swift in his chair as he felt his body flaring up with desire. 

‘We have duties until noon,’ Sansa reminded him, her eyes glistening with desire. Jon groaned and tried to calm himself as Maester Wolkan made sure to knock on the door and wait before he could enter the Queen’s quarters. The kind Maester promised to have Moon Tea for the Queen by night under secrecy and from that night on until ordered otherwise, the Moon Tea -disguised as simple chamomile tea would wait at Sansa’s nightstand.

 

Soon they were both dressed in grey and black and moving to the yard where the convoy of the South was waiting to be sent off by the Queen and the Warden. Lord Royce was there as well with Robyn, the young man was joking about something with Tyrion who smiled politely while Lord Royce smiled at Sansa and glared at Jon as they approached. The young couple remained stoic, the fallen proposal to marriage was still raw for the advisor of the Protector of the Vale but Sansa would find a way to mend the wound, a good bride, someone worthy of Robyn, she’d find someone soon, sponsor her for Lady of the Vale. 

Brienne broke protocol and shared an embrace with the young Queen. Sansa was glad the dutiful knight did so, giving her the chance to hug the woman who gave her away to her husband. 

‘Thank you so much,’ Sansa whispered into Brienne’s ear and the tall woman smiled, her eyes almost in tears of happiness for Sansa. 

‘Take care of yourself, Your Grace,’ Brienne advised and Sansa nodded, tears building in her own eyes. She missed her shield so much but she trusted her more than anyone else to be around Bran, if something went wrong, Brienne would be there to defend him. 

Brienne clasped hands with Jon, nodding at each other, both Guards of royals, their duty was heavy. Pod was next who browed at Sansa and shook hands with Jon and then Tyrion who bowed deeply at both. The young Starks remained stoic, Sansa’s hands clasped before her body, Jon’s hand on Longclaw. 

‘Queen Sansa, Warden of the North, I thank you for the warm hospitality.’ Tyrion offered, the pin of the Hand of the King of the Six Kingdoms on his chest. 

‘Lord Tyrion, the pleasure was ours.’ Jon spoke, his words cold as Sansa reached with her hand for Tyrion to take before he could finally leave them be. The North always thrived when Southerners were away. 

‘King Bran will soon contact you,’ Tyrion only added as he let go of Sansa’s hand and bowed again. He wouldn’t add anything more as Robyn and the rest of the people had no idea about the dragons. Sansa would have to speak with Bran -who already knew of her union- and with Jon himself on when such news should spread around the Realms as Jon’s return had already spread like wildfire from the Reach and on southward within days. 

The convoy started slowly exiting the gates of Winterfell, leaving behind the cousins as Robyn approached Sansa and smiled at her. 

‘I was refused last night, but would I be able to at least have my sweetest cousin for a tour over the repairing works of Winterfell? I would like to discuss supplies distribution among the Vale and the North, maybe the restoration of the Kingsroad from here till the Twins? That would help commerce immensely.’Robyn offered the proposal along his arm for Sansa to take. She could feel Jon’s burning gaze as she accepted Robyn’s arm. She was Queen in the North, , she had refused the Protector of the Vale in marriage, yet she would keep the best of relationships with the Vale as it was the middle ground to the rest of Westeros. If one day something happened to Bran, or herself, the two reigning siblings would have to reach each other and the Neck was between them, Robyn should always be in good terms with both. 

‘Of course, dear cousin, my time is yours.’ Sansa offered charmingly and Jon’s jaw set as Sansa turned her eyes towards her secret husband, she was playing the teasing game again, she didn’t have to be so kind to the younger man. 

‘Jon, would you join us?’ Sansa asked as sweetly, she had to pretend she was simply among cousins. Jon cleared his throat and shook his head with a sweet smile of his own. 

‘As Warden of the North, I would be honored to join such an important conversation.’ Jon spoke, reminding Robyn who was in charge after Sansa. ‘But as the Commander of the Queensguard, I must see to Your Grace’s guard, my Queen. Every son of every northen family has arrived to pledge themselves at your service and the Southern visitors delayed my duties with them. So if you’ll excused me…’ Jon had decided to let her drown in the honey Robyn had decided to throw on her. She hated coated words, she hated hypocrisy and it was clear as Northern snow that Lord Royce had pushed Robyn on Sansa for that encounter, to learn more and create ties as a substitute to the marriage that had fallen before it could be asked for. Robyn wanted to show interest in the North, to pave the way for a future marriage proposal. Jon wanted to snarl, overprotectiveness suffocating him, Sansa was his wife. The urge to move to the battlements and scream the fact from there left him mute and bowing swiftly before he could leave them, feeling Sansa’s glare on his back. 

He was joining the training soon after, he needed to stab something. He was glad he did although his gaze always caught Sansa’s fire kissed hair around the grounds as she toured Robyn around, their arms were laced with each other, Sansa was laughing at something, her voice echoing throughout the grounds.  

Jon couldn’t help but feel jealous, even if he knew, he was the reason of her laughter returning in her, even if he knew it was him she was married to. He caught her more than twice looking back at him, making sure he was there, he didn’t smile or wave back, just nodded. A little more of it all and the day would pass and they’d be able to go back to her solar for “state matters” to be alone. 

And indeed the time passed, through assembling her Queenguard, through lunch and the never ending tour, the sun set over the horizon and the candles were lit by the servants inside the Queen’s quarters, along the fireplace. Ghost left for hun and the couple moved quietly to the room. When the door was closed and barred behind them, Jon reached for her, pulling her closer for a kiss that lingered as the two remained in each other’s arms. 

‘Hmm that feels nice,’ Jon hummed against Sansa’s lips when they broke the kiss for air. She smiled against him and nodded before she could kiss him again. The new normal was amazing, she needed it more than the air she inhaled through the kisses. 

‘At last,’Sansa commented and Jon grinned. 

‘Aye, eager aren’t we?’ he wondered and Sansa smiled and nodded. 

‘The day was long,’ Sansa agreed as she wrapped her arms around him, there was no intention of sitting in front of their desk and open the day’s scrolls with matters that had to be taken care of. They were both moving towards their bed. ‘Robyn was suffocating with all the future planning.’ she commented and this time Jon paused and looked at her for a moment, wanting her to elaborate, Sansa understood and sighed. ‘Lord Royce certainly taught him what to say. He kept on talking for a future in common… they will propose again, I bet six months from now, when Summer will be here and the Northern Lords will also be eager for me to produce heirs. Robin made sure to tell me how much he wants blue eyed children.’ Sansa elaborated and Jon snorted as he glanced at the sealed cup on Sansa’s nightstand. 

‘No one is giving you blue eyed children, not even your husband.’ Jon declared as Sansa chuckled and brought the cup between them, drinking the all too familiar beverage, she had been taking it in the past, a secret courtesy from Maester Wolkan to be spared Ramsay’s child from her womb. ‘And until Bran contacts us and starts on whatever that training is going to be like, I intend to create the most beautiful memories of us in this room and on this bed.’ Jon promised as he reached for the laces of her dress, making Sansa grin. So many things had changed from some days before, when she had reached Castle Black to bring Jon back. He had been restored in every level, from his place in winterfell up to his place in her heart. 

Indeed, until Bran was to call upon his Targaryen blood, Sansa was more than willing to enjoy Jon Stark, her cousin, Warden, Commander, husband and love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a chapter for me two fall back into pace with the characters and development I had planned in the summer for them, I hope you liked the small things that happened here, comments? should I continue or put the muse back to sleep? thank you for reading!


	13. Of Nightmares and Visions

_ Chapter Thirteen - Of Nightmares and Visions _

  
  
  


_ ‘When you play the Game of Thrones you either win or you die there is no middle ground.’ Cersei’s voice was threatening to Ned Stark, the capital’s blinding sunlight bathed them both. They had no idea that place would have been their final place.  _

_ ‘You were so beautiful that night…’ Bran was apathetic as he spoke the words to Sansa, at the roots of the weirdwood, his words holding enigmas as Sansa stood on her feet and rushed away, her knees were trembling.  _

_ A raven screeching, a dragon shadow over winterfell, followed by two more. The snow had melted around the North. _

_ ‘You were exactly where you were Supposed to be.’ Bran’s enigmatic voice, the void in his eyes, as he looked at Jon.  _

_ A red Priestess was throwing her hands in the air, Drogon was breathing fire against two large eggs, a red and a grey one. Both hatched, causing the Red Priestess to fall on her knees with a huge smile on her face before the black dragon could turn his fiery breath towards her, burning her alive as the baby dragons screeched their entrance into the world. A Ritual of Fire and Blood. _

_ A robust, handsome man with dark hair, by the side of a beautiful tall woman, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, a chamber dressed in the Stark colors. _

_ A flag of two wolves facing each other was waving into the wind, screeches of beasts were heard in the distance.  _

_ ‘I’m tired of fighting,’ Jon was exasperated.  _

_ Traitor. The knives ran through Jon’s flesh, tearing holes at his heart.  _

_ Little Sansa was on her knees, clutching the torn dress at her body, her belly cramping from the punch the guard had struck her with.  _

_ ‘Until I return, the North is yours.’  _

_ Sansa was screaming as Ramsay cut into her flesh.  _

_ ‘Go on, I believe in you.’  _

_ Drogon was flying over the melting snow, searching.  _

 

Jon and Sansa startled awake. They both turned and looked at each other, soaked in sweat, eyes wide and fearful. There was no word exchanged as they turned and looked at the tapping sound that started at the window of Sansa’s quarters. A third eye raven was pecking the glass, cawing and flapping its wings. 

They pushed away the bile taste of their shared nightmarish vision, not ready yet to depict the meaning and rushed for their clothes. It was dangerous for them to exit Sansa’s rooms together in the middle of the night but there was no time for pretences. Bran was there, trying to draw their attention. The raven flew away and both Sansa and Jon knew where it was going. They rushed to put furs above their clothes and boots on their feet before they could leave. 

The guards had been excused from guarding Sansa’s door by Jon himself. The corridors were silent as the two Starks moved fast within them. They knew every corner guarded, avoiding it. And even when they encountered soldiers they were far enough from Sansa’s quarters to raise suspicion. The Northerners were not gossiping creatures like the people of the South. 

They moved outside and Jon brought an arm over Sansa’s shoulders as she shivered at the sudden difference in temperature, the night was crisp and her nightgown was sheer beneath the furs. Ghost showed up from the shadows, tailing the couple eagerly as they reached the Godswood. 

The raven was on branch it stood in the night of their handfasting. They looked at each other before Sansa could remain rooted on her spot and point at Jon with her chin, Ghost stood by her side. She wished she could reach closer and help him but she knew, ever since that first raven arrived weeks ago, that would be yet another fight of Jon and no one else’s, not even hers. 

Jon took a deep breath -the hot air leaving his mouth fogged his face- nodding as he approached the tree. The raven screeched again and Jon had to put all his faith on his long lost baby cousin. He needed to believe in Bran and in himself and in the miracle that he’d be able to tame dragons by tapping on his Targaryen blood, no matter how he hated the line. 

Jon knelt before the tree and unsure of what to do, he did the only thing he could think of. The old Gods kept an eye upon humans through the Trees of the faith. He reached and touched the wood, closing his eyes. He had seen a young man and a woman -just like Sansa had- he had hoped it would be their future offspring. They had shared a nightmare and visions, his blood was already singing with magic and hers did too because of him and their union. 

_ A lean man with silver hair was raising his arms, his words like a song of Valyrian words. Jon saw through his eyes, felt the slowly rotting wound at his side, his left knee trembled as he stood with effort. The massive golden dragon flapped its wings and hovered above its master. Aegon the Second was limping as his dragon Sunfyre reached down again, sniffing his wounded master and growling, the dragon’s wing was strangely bending.  _

_ ‘Kesan aderī morghūljagon,’ Jon felt his mouth moving as Aegon was talking to the beast that held its head low for his master. ‘Daor riñar yn ao, se ñuha mandia's tresy.  Skorkydoso quba iksis bona? Nyke ossēntan zirȳla mērī naejot emagon zirȳla tresy toliot nyke.’ the dragon groaned in annoyance yet Jon couldn’t understand the words he was speaking to the reptile. ‘Yn emilā naejot mīsagon zirȳla syt issa ñuha ānogar.’ Aegon sighed and nodded to himself as his dragon was allowed to fly away with a wave of his master’s hand, the gesture causing him to wince in pain. The Dance of Dragons had ended months ago, resulting with Aegon ordering Sunfyre to eat Rhaenyra alive. The gods flipped the coins and they all had landed on the bad side, thousands had died and thousands were unable because of the war. Without children, Aegon had no choice but to give the Throne to his nephew, or face his house’s extinction.  _

_ Jon saw through the beast’s eyes after he blinked his, King’s Landing seemed smaller than what it was to be in the future, Targaryen banners of black and red around the capital. Aegon’s reign was coming to an end and so was the dragon’s as the beast painfully flew over the city. Jon could feel the pain at the wing, at the back leg and the base of his neck as he snapped it at the direction of his rider, Aegon was watching from the high tower as Jon - through the beast- flew away in search of prey.  _

Jon’s eyes opened again as he had seen the vision effortlessly. His blood hummed with the thrill he had felt when he first touched Rhaegal, he hated the thrill he felt, he hated the magic that his blood sang with. 

Sansa remained silent, a few feet away, watching Jon. The only Stark left after herself. She sighed and lowered her eyes to the snowy ground. Deep down she knew, he would have to be more dragon than wolf from now on. She had been Lannister and Bolton in name, but Jon would have to be more dragon than wolf in essence if they wished to survive. She suppressed the bitter taste of the truth, only titles, she tried to persuade herself. A Targaryen had burnt down King’s Landing, a Targaryen would save Westeros from the dragons. She had to believe there was a way, through Jon, and she had to fortify her world against the beasts before it was too late. Once again, she had to set the game and play it well, only this time with Jon by her side, no matter what. 

‘I know how to control the Dragons.’ Jon’s voice was gruff, barely heard. Sansa finally approached him as he remained on his knees, his eyes unfocused at the vision of the past. She touched his shoulder, waiting for him. ‘Bran will be putting me through the old Targaryen’s minds so I can learn the secrets of taming them, I will be able to get through the Dragons as well. I must learn to speak High Valyrian. We need to build scorpions, I will have the beasts kill each other.’ Jon’s words had Sansa nodding her head, no matter what. 

_ ‘I’m tired of fighting.’  _ Jon’s words echoed in her mind, from so long ago, as her husband stood and they embraced each other at the spot they had been married, days ago. 

 

~*~

 

The  council chamber was full of Northern Lords, buzzing with their deep voices as they waited for the Queen and Warden of the North to enter the chamber. Lords of Houses loyal to the North, their sons serving at Sansa’s Queensguard. They had all been summoned by the Queen the moment Robin Arryn had departed for his return to the Vale and everyone had been eager to show up on time for their ruler. 

Everyone stood as Jon entered the chamber, in his armor with the two wolves facing each other, followed by Sansa who moved towards the head of the table. Her seat waiting for her, a small parchment -arrived that same morning from King’s Landing- clutched at her hand. Her jaw set, her lips a thin line, the mask of the Queen of the North was on and she had to remain stoic as not to break altogether. 

‘My Lords,’ Sansa only said as she sat down first, followed by everyone else, Jon included who had received the seat by her right corner. The Lords sat down, some of them still awkward at being ordered or dismissed by a young woman, yet respectful for who she was and what she had given them while her crippled and unable to produce children, alternative would have stirred uproars. Jon could have been restored, if the wounds were not so raw, if people didn’t adore Sansa, if he was not half a Targaryen and so complicated between Winterfell, Dragonstone, King’s Landing and the Wall. Sansa had been the right Stark to reign and so far, the North thrived. 

‘To the easy tasks first,’ Sansa spoke before anyone else could. ‘Spring approaches, the snow will melt on the mountains.’ Sansa started and everyone waited. ‘The Wall was broken, we’re not sure if it will remain standing through the heat, in case it melts, more water will be available. I want trails, channels for the water to run through barren soil, after so many years of Winter, we have a unique opportunity to help the soil become prosper. Spring is that time.’ Sansa offered and one of the lords cleaned his throat, Sansa nodded. 

‘It has been barren for decades, my Queen…’ he pointed out and Sansa nodded. 

‘It’s worth the effort and the attempt, even if a sixth of the barren soil of the North becomes prosper, our storages will fill, if more prospers, we’ll be able to commerce with the East and the Six Kingdoms.’ Sansa replied and everyone nodded. 

‘I want your families to account every bastard and orphan, I want them to be brought to Winterfell, where they will be trained as soldiers, craftsmen, servants of the crown, we need new people to be able to take care of the work done by the people lost in the Long Night. I won’t have children rotting in the villages, neglected because of what they are when they can be much more for the North.’ Sansa added and even if most of her lords didn’t care of that part of the small folk, Sansa did. ‘Small folk make all the difference when armies fall, and armies are made to fall.’ Sansa added and everyone nodded again, they had no idea their armies would soon be needed again, maybe across the North, maybe even across the entire continent.

‘My Queen, it would be lovely if -when Spring comes- you are to have your first Tour, as Queen of the North, the first of her name and kind, across your kingdom.’ Lord Cerwyn spoke this time and the rest of the lords -apart from Jon- nodded their heads in agreement. ‘Your people need to see you and it will be a good chance for you to see all channels dug by then and all cities and villages empty from orphans and bastards since you want to become their mother.’ the elder Lord added and Sansa considered the idea, glancing at Jon. They both knew it was a good idea for her, and an awfully good chance for the lords around them to parade their sons to her as suitors. Some of the beans had to be spilt. 

‘That is a great idea, Your Grace.’ Jon added after a few moments of silence and Sansa nodded. 

‘The Spring Tour then, it will happen but I will have the Warden with me, along my Queensguard, the Tour will last a max of two months so you all make sure the roads are clean and taken care of. A Stark must always be in Winterfell and I’m not willing to leave this place for more than what is required of me.’ Sansa finally set the rules. She hated leaving her home but she wasn’t just the Lady of Winterfell anymore, she was the Queen of the North, and if she had been able to leave for the Wall for Jon, she would have to leave her home for the rest of her land as well. 

‘Are we done with the easy tasks?’ the young Queen asked.

‘Gathering  _ every  _ bastard and orphan, making useful people out of them and digging channels all over the North? Yes I think we’re done with easy.’ Lord Dustin attempted to amuse Sansa but she remained silent, only giving a small smile at the words as the rest of the lords laughed. Sansa looked at Jon, who gave the slightest of nods to her and she sighed and put her hand on the tabletop, opening her palm to expose the tiny parchment within her grasp. All eyes fell upon her fingers as Jon reached for it, only the Warden allowed to touch her if he wished. 

‘Parchment as this have been sent all over the continent and across the Jade Sea, to the free cities and their new leaders, reaching us all, by my baby brother, Bran the Broken.’ Sansa explained and Jon finally read the few lines holding the news. 

“Drogon has been found in Valyria, along two more dragons, hatched from eggs in a ritual of fire and blood, the three dragons roam free upon the destroyed volcano of Valyria.” Jon’s words were stiff, sober, matching the postures of the lords around him and Sansa. 

‘Gods have mercy,’ Lord Cerwyn whispered at the news. 

‘Gods have no mercy, that’s why they’re Gods,’ Sansa countered softly, hating how Cersei manifested on her lips so easily, yet the Lannister matriarch had been right, in her many painful lessons. 

‘The fuckin’ beast,’ Lord Glover whispered in disbelief as he hid his face in his hand. One of his sons had fallen in the fight of King’s Landing, consumed in dragonfire. Sansa nodded her head in silence, waiting for the news to be digested. It had been convenient for them all to simply forget the beast, more than a year had passed and Sansa had ruled peacefully over people who loved her. The Six Kingdoms were recovering nicely, content no madman was on the Iron Throne and happy the ugly chair had been destroyed altogether. But they had all chosen to ignore the fact that the beast that spread terror wherever it went was still out there, alive and by now with two more dragons, like it used to be during the Dragon Queen’s conquest. 

‘We need to be prepared this time,’ Sansa spoke the words, breaking her council out of their fearful silence. ‘I know that many of you opposed to my decision to bring Jon Stark back from the Wall. I know some of you think that the threat of the Unsullied and the Dothraki is too big a price for Jon’s return.’ Sansa added and everyone remained silent. ‘But I knew, ever since Lord Lannister arrived, those weeks ago, that the Dragons existed and I had to find a way to keep the North safe, and that is through Jon.’ Sansa added and this time disbelief spread over the table. 

‘My Queen, with all due respect, your secrets are  _ state  _ secrets, we should have been informed sooner...’ Lord Dustin this time interejected and Sansa nodded with a small smile that mostly seemed like a smirk. 

‘With all due respect, my Lord, when I was simply the Lady of Winterfell and Jon was King -after you bent your knees to him- gone to Dragonstone to find armies to win the undead, you changed your mind and your loyalties every time the snow fell… and it snowed every day… I’m the State and my secrets are mine until I believe it’s time to share them.’ Sansa’s words were sharp, causing everyone to be silent even if some had been ready to speak of what Jon did as King in Dragonstone, they shifted in their seats and remained silent. 

Some of them still believed him a traitor, some others had killed him for it in the past. Sansa would not have uprisings within her grasp for that matter. They were alive because of Jon, because of her and because of Arya and Bran. The Starks had sacrificed their lives, for the North, each in a different level, some were resting in the cold crypts, some were left unburied, the four of them however -even though unrecognizable to their own eyes -had remained alive and restless to go on, the pack had to survive. 

‘We need to build scorpions, we must train archers, we need poisoned spikes and arrows,  store water in our warehouses. We must create escape routes if the emergency arises. We won’t be locked in the crypts again, we must be smarter.’ Sansa’s voice was calm, her eyes turned to Jon who nodded swiftly. ‘Bran, Jon and I believe we have found a way to tame the beasts.’ Sansa added, picking the interest of the lords, pulling them out of their despair over the news of the beasts.  

‘Bran has shown me a way, to use my Targaryen blood and his lessons as to tame the beasts like the old Targaryens did, before the Dance of the Dragons.’ Jon explained swiftly and the Lords seemed dissatisfied, afraid and wary. 

‘The bloody Targaryen legacy of fire and blood,’ Lord Manderly spat and Jon nodded, agreeing with the man’s disdain, even if it was half directed at him. 

‘Daenerys Targaryen had no idea how to train or tame the beasts, she mostly commanded them because she raised them as her babes. But Dragons need taming, they need order. Bran can show me how to do it, and I’m willing to learn and keep them away.’ Jon added and Lord Dustin this time spoke, his words harsh. 

‘And how will we know you are successful…. My Lord Stark? By the time you’ll be able to tame the beasts they may be laying waste on the entirety of the North.’ The man spoke the words, angry at the news, many “ayes” were heard by the rest. Sansa remained silent as she knew Jon had to regain the respect of these men as the Warden just like he had done as King, supported by her always but still, back then it had been easier, simpler while it had been a war among men and not dragons and kingdoms. 

‘I will be able to act through the dragons, keeping them at bay, and if need be, making them kill each other long before they even consider a return to Westeros.’ Jon offered and the older lord shook his head, unable to understand how magic and dragons worked. ‘For all we know they might forever remain in Valyria, but we must make sure, the eggs hatched for a reason and Queen Sansa, King Bran and myself find it difficult to believe that it’s only because Drogon needs company.’ Jon added, his mind drifting at the day he slayed Drogon’s mother. How the dragon had kept himself from killing Jon for what he had done, on the contrary, the beast had burnt the Iron Throne and left, leaving the last Targaryen unharmed. 

‘What if they come exactly because you are here?’ Lord Cerwyn asked and Sansa sighed, she knew this would happen, yet she remained silent again, Jon had to win his place without her putting everyone in their places, displeasing them by the lack of answers. ‘Lord Ned Stark made you a Snow, our graceful Queen here restored you as a Stark but Varys had made sure to spread the word -right before the destruction of King’s Landing- that you’re Aegon Targaryen, for all we know the beasts might come and seek you out as the last of their tamers and owners.’ 

‘They would have come already,’ Jon offered the simplest explanation, feeling Sansa’s worried eyes upon him, they shared the hurt upon the sound of the truth they both tried to avoid about his blood. ‘Dragons have no masters or tamers or owners, during the Dance of the Dragons they even turned against their riders. If they come up here I will be able to make them turn against each other. If it mattered where I am -and were I to fail- I could go in Valyria, they would eat me and come to Westeros regardless.’ Jon’s words put everyone in a pensive silence. 

‘Our only hope is to follow King Bran’s plan of training Jon to be able to control the beasts. Hopefully, he’ll be able to make them kill each other from afar.  And we can only hope he’ll never have to use his powers over them from a close distance.’ Sansa finally spoke, taking the decision to finally aid her Warden, cousin, lover and husband. Her hand reached for his over the table -like she had done a lifetime ago, while persuading him to fight for Rickon and Winterfell, now she persuaded everyone else of Jon’s position of significance and power- the gesture of confidence and affection was seen by every Lord around the table. 

Sansa and Jon Stark were a united front and no matter the threat ahead, the North would stand behind them. The North Remembers and the Northerners were ready to fight for the White Wolf who saved them from the Long Night and the Red Wolf who brought independence.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon's words to Sunfyre:I will soon die/ No children but you, and my sister's son. how bad is that? I killed her only to have her son over me./ but you will have to protect him for he is my blood.
> 
> Soo I wanted more things explained, I wanted to have a taste of the past and future, I wanted political Jon back, earning his place in the council without Sansa patronising the lords into silence just because it didn't suit the couple. they had a lot of things to fix and little by little they do so. I hope you liked the chapter, thank you for reading, please comment?


	14. Plans of Death and Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the comments, I'm so happy people are still reading my work, I was inspired by Jonsa week and I had to go on with my work here, I hope you all enjoy it

_ Chapter Fourteen -Plans of Death and Life _

  
  


Sansa remained silent, her blue eyes warmed by the flickering fire in the hearth. The parchment had remained clutched at her hand, an iron first. She was rigid, cold, satisfied to no end. 

Tyrion’s words on the letter were few but clear. The news of Jon’s return had reached Grey Worm in Naath through a woman, looking very much like Daenerys’ slave or friend, or whatever that woman Missendei had been to the Dragon Queen. The imposter -sent by Tyrion- had reached Grey Worm, informing him of Jon’s return, striking his mourning heart for the woman he had seen murdered by Cersei Lannister. Tyrion knew exactly what Sansa knew as well -men do stupid things when in love, they’re easily manipulated- Grey Worm had been poisoned that same night by Tyrion’s spy. 

The Unsullied had remained unmoving, it had been more than a year, more leaders had risen among their ranks, no one was seeking another war for a Queen long gone, for a Queen who laid waste to a foreign kingdom. Naath had found peace, the Dothraki had also reestablished their way of life in a place much more familiar than Westeros. Tyrion had made sure to take down the last fire of objection by throwing poison at it. 

Tyrion and his ways, the blood on his hands suited her this time. Her eyes shut at the memory all the ghosts she had loved. Of her Father, for the boy King and Cersei. Her Septa, the woman sworn to take care of her, slain from barbarians who had to murder an old woman to reach Sansa herself. Of Shae, the only person who had been kind and protective of her, she knew it had been Tyrion. Of Lady, for Joffrey to be satisfied. Of Margery her only friend with that beautiful smile and sweet words, Cersei had claimed her in fire. Her Lady Mother and Robb, the Lannisters had sent their regards through the Boltons. Of Rickon, Ramsay -as his last act of cruelty- had killed the young boy. Of Theon who had fallen to retribute himself, at her permission to have him back. Of Lyanna Mormount -challenging and brave- Sansa was sure the young Lady would have been delighted to see a woman upon the Throne of the North.

‘Sansa…’ her name was only for him to call, the rest addressed her with titles -currently spoken with concern and fear- was heard as Jon entered the chambers for the daily scrolls of state matters. She realized the tears were falling only when she shut her itching eyes and the inhale of breath made her sob as she brought her free hand to cover her face. 

Jon approached her quickly. He had entered her chambers, ready to ask her if she had noticed the absence of the ugly Dornish duvet, candle holders from the Riverlands and the bottle of wine from the Vale. He had removed the suitors’ gifts for he was her husband, even if only three more people around the world knew. He had been childish, ready to argue with her over her suitors’ gifts removed from her -secretly their- chambers. The day at the training fields had been a success, he was about to report her Guard was ready to travel with her for the Spring Tour that was only weeks away, when he had found her rigid as a Crypt statue before the fireplace. He hadn’t seen her as cold since his return from Dragonstone. He knew something was wrong instantly. Jon’s mind racing to the Dragons, Bran, her health, anything that could cause her unrest and pain. 

He had promised he would protect her, and even if; back then, she had been in denial of who could protect who, they had made it, protecting each other, surviving. He was training through the weirwood with Bran, he was learning Valyrian -a task not as hard as he had expected to face- he was going back to the past of the Targaryen House for them all, for her, for their future and he could only hope he’d be fast enough. 

‘What happened…?’ he asked quietly as he stood before her, only then noticing the parchment at her clenched hand. With one hand he took her wrist gently, the other opening her palm, Sansa let go and he took the parchment, reading the smudged ink words. Grey Worm was dead. 

_ ‘Ask me in ten years,’ _ Tyrion had said back in King’s Landing -or what had been left of it- and Jon could see how quickly and efficiently the imp moved for things to be different in ten years’ time. Yet the news didn’t explain Sansa’s reaction, if anything, she should have been relieved another enemy of theirs was down. He tossed the parchment in the hearth, both hands moving on the base of her face, cupping her cheeks as another sob escaped her lips at the comfort of his touch. Only with him, she allowed her tears, only with him, she showed emotion. 

‘Hey, it’s alrigh’, whatever it is, I’m here, Sans,’ Jon whispered before she could fall in his arms, he held her close, tightly to him, allowed her to break down in tears. The news was just the excuse, he didn’t have to ask about the reasons, there were plenty. 

‘Tell me something - please.’ Sansa’s voice was broken, against his ear, a whisper frightened, yet desperate, begging, so unlike her normal tone. 

‘Anything,’ he replied without fear, only shock at her breakdown. He would give her the world only if she hadn’t claimed it herself. 

‘When...when….’ her hand moved between them, clutching at the leather jerkin above his heart, he suddenly knew what she wanted, his own eyes closed in pain. ‘When they… What is there after?’ Sansa’s whisper was almost lost against his skin but he knew what she was asking for. The Ghosts were back, of all the people she mourned, for the parents and brothers and friends. He wished he could tell her there were fields of daisies and sunlight and grass and springs of water. He wished he could tell her there was warmth and laughter among loved ones reunited. 

‘Nothing, there’s nothing,’ he had been honest to Melisandre and he was honest to his wife now. He had seen nothing, blackness, silence, and yet, after all he had been through up until then,which was only half the journey to the Seven Hells that followed- he had been happy with the void. 

The answer seemed to calm Sansa in his arms, to make her compose herself. She sniffed and pulled slightly away, looking at him before she could look back down, suddenly ashamed to gaze at him. 

‘I- I am sorry for bringing this back for you.’ Sansa tried and Jon actually chuckled, how he wasn’t sure but she achieved to make him do so. He raised a gentle hand to her jaw, lifting her face to look at her before he could steal a salty kiss from her lips. 

‘You think my scars don’t remind me of my death everyday?’ Jon’s gruff voice was gentle, actually wondering at her as Sansa nodded her head in acknowledgment. ‘You think  _ your  _ scars don’t remind me of your own horrors? The price we both paid to be here now? Before each other, husband and wife, Queen and Warden of the North?’ Jon asked and Sansa sighed and nodded once again before he could cup her face with both hands once again, one hand travelling down her beck, touching tenderly as he pulled her closer for a kiss to which she responded with equal need. 

‘We fought, we survived, we erased them all.’ Jon’s voice was reassuring when the kiss broke. ‘We played the game better than anyone else,’ he added, painfully proud of how much both he and Sansa achieved, sometimes even at the expense of each other. Sansa’s eyes glanced at the spot the parchment had fallen and now was gone into ashes. ‘One last time,’ Jon added, knowing Grey Worm’s death was only a good thing for them and they were both done mourning people who wished them dead anyway. Honorable was what they were, but according their ethics. Winterfell had been their home, the place of Sansa’s torture, of Jon’s nightmerish childhood, of Littlefinger’s death, of their whole lives. 

‘One last time,’ Sansa repeated, still tearfully, knowing they both had to put their armors on again, so different from each other’s. He would command the swords, she would command the words. ‘And then, after all this, we’ll have our family, our children, our future.’ Sansa dared speak her deepest desire, a desire Jon had revived from the depths of her childhood dreams. 

Stupid girl with stupid dreams who never learns. 

‘Exactly, our family, our children, Aryanna and Robb and Ned and, Rickon and little Margery.’ Jon was saying, his own eyes full of tears as Sansa laughed in disbelief, her hands around his shoulders. 

‘How many?’ she asked between a chuckle and sob and Jon could only kiss her dump cheek with a chuckle of his own. Small, unsteady dreams of Starklings with black Stark curls and Tully fiery hair, her eyes, his eyes, her wit, his strategic mind, their compassion, their love. 

‘As many as you’re willing to bear, Sansa, as many as you can give us.’ Jon replied, a churning fear rising within his belly at the thought of Sansa on a birthing bed, hemorrhaging to death like his own mother after their child tore its way through her and into the world. No, he wouldn’t allow terror to cloud that moment of happiness and planning, he refused to yield in new kinds of fear over the woman he adored. Just no, life would be kinder to him after all. 

‘As many as we can have,’ Sansa repeated for herself, happiness restoring itself in her eyes as Jon only nodded and hugged her tightly.

 

~*~

 

As the last snowflake fell upon the muddy ground of Winterfell’s gates, the orphans and bastard children of the North reached the castle where the Queen had summoned them all. Sansa had made sure for laws to restrict the neglect of bastard children, that of course hadn’t stopped people from dooming children to such fate but at least, there were fewer than what she had expected as she remained behind the window of her chambers, watching the little figures entering the court. The orphans were more, result of the Long Night and the battle of the Dawn, married with the long winter they had just passed through. She knew the feeling, she had become an orphan herself, before her very eyes for her father, learning of being motherless while she was a hostage. 

Sansa exhaled harshly at the memories, wishing them away as she saw the fearful eyes of the children entering Winterfell, flocked all together. Soon, they would know there was no reason to be afraid. She would take care of them all, depending on their skill and talent a future awaited for them, she had chosen for her people to love her instead of fear her.

Word had already spread, along the first songs, Sansa the Gentle Mother, she halfheartedly chuckled as she gulped down the Moon Tea of the day. Her eyes drifted closed, body relaxing as his arms wrapped around her middle section, his chin resting on her shoulder as they both gazed outside at the children. The first time Jon approached her from behind she had stiffened, afraid of the lack of eye contact, she had chased away the memories of abuse, trusting herself and her husband. Weeks later, she was able to relax against him. 

Jon nuzzled his wife’s neck, pecking the shell of her ear as they remained to watch the miserable children’s arrival. Sansa was the only one who would care for them, she had changed the entire North, towards a woman ruling, able and smart, brave and enduring, she was also gentle and commanding, even if some didn’t like it. She was what the North had needed for centuries for it to remain on its two feet, all barren and vast land of snow and ice. 

Yet the ice and snow were melting and slowly, the North was changing, preparing for the Tour of the Queen, the families were working on the fields, the bannermen were part of her Queensguard under his command in her name, the helpless were to be trained and protected, the North was thriving. 

And while at her prime, Sansa was moving to establish the ruling of House Stark, stirring the cold pond of hard skinned Northerners. The Act of Succession would be the last battle she was to fight against her council before the Spring Tour. As long as she could play the Unmarried Queen Card, she would push for a kingdom as she imagined it and thankfully Jon was there, to guard the secret and support her in all her shaping of the North. 

They had spoken of the future, when the Moon Tea would be behind them, when the Dragons would be dealt with, when everyone would know of the cousins being married so the bloody suitors could finally back off. If a daughter came first, she would inherit the Northern Throne after her mother no matter how many brother came after her. Sansa had been the second child and fate pushed her to be the only one standing in Winterfell. If Arya was ever to return before Sansa could have children or would die childless, she was the Queen’s Sole Heiress. If Arya was ever to return, Sansa and Jon had already decided she would be the Sole Protector of the Heirs, she liked it or not.  _ “A punishment she could take to Storm’s End, if she ever returns.’  _ Sansa had smirked at Jon as she had signed the Act of Succession, followed by his own signature and mirrored stamp, his ink direwolf was facing hers. 

The lords would revolt, they both knew. Sansa had brought independence but their poor child -if it was to be a firstborn girl- would have to fight even harder than her mother for respect and power on the Northern Throne. Sansa and Jon had hoped to smooth the edges until then. 

‘I want them all to be fed and taken care of,’ Sansa whispered, her hand reaching for the bottle of wine from the Vale, pouring wine to a glass, for a moment she realized that was one of Cersei’s habits. She set the glass down and turned around in her husband's arms. Jon smiled and nodded. 

‘I put your entire Guard to sort them according to age, that way would be easier for them to be taught the basics for now. The ladies from the kitchens will take care of their clothing and food.’ Jon reported to his wife and Queen who smiled and nodded in his arms. With the corner of his eye he could see the candle holder from the Riverlands and he was certain, upon the bed he had laid her last night to worship her body, that bloody Dornish rag was back among the Northern furs. Sansa smirked at her husband as she stole a kiss. It was a new day, a day they were both strong and fighting again. 

‘Next time you remove my personal items from my chambers, I will remove the furs -and the mattress- from your own.’ Sansa threatened, the smirk turning into a smile as she challenged him. 

‘An awful fate, but I have been secretly sleeping elsewhere, my Queen,’ Jon replied as he frowned at the bottle of wine. Sansa feigned shock at his words. ‘At the Queen’s chambers.’ he added and Sansa chuckled as his hands moved to her ribs, tickling her above the thick fabric of the dress she had worn for the day, soft fabrics and calm lines for meeting the children. 

‘Then next time you remove my personal items from my chambers, I will have you banished from the Queen’s chambers and yours, ordered to sleep in the stables with the horses.’ Sansa threatened and Jon grinned at her, a rare, beautiful sighted reserved only for her eyes. 

‘Will you be inspecting the stables at night?’ Jon asked and Sansa swatted his arm playfully. 

‘They’re ugly and not fitting the Northern style.’ Jon insisted and Sansa snorted a laugh. 

‘Oh please…Warden of the North and Grand Decoration Master, Jon Stark.’ she could only laugh harder. Jon “accidentally” bounced against her, knocking the wine bottle from the side table to the floor, effectively shuttering the bloody thing into pieces. Sansa gasped from his arms and looked down at the floor, the odour of the wine already assaulting their noses, the rooms would smell of vinegar soon. ‘You beast!...’ she shouted in rage, soon married with laughter as Jon tickled her ribs again, healing her fury over the ugly thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Spring tour approaches but before that I needed jonsa to speak of death and life and the future and the past because they are married and they need time to heal and that will happen among each other, i want them happy and fluffy and I can't with season 8!  
> comments? ideas for the tour? suggestions? complains? I'm here ready to add whatever you'd like to see within this story, thank you!


	15. I Meant It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a new chapter, I love writing these two in various every day Winterfell activities and I just needed to add more before the Spring Tour begins :) thanks for following my work here

_ Chapter Fifteen - I meant it _

 

_ The White Wolf  climbed up rugged heights _

_ Snagged a run with shield pristine  _

_ At cavern's shaft, he saw no lights _

_ And heard no sound inside. _

_ The Old King called the dragon out. _

_ But only the Queen's voice came back. _

_ "The Wolves killed the Dragon!," she shout. _

_ And the Red Wolf stepped into the sun. _

 

The song from the voices of the children echoed through the walls of the castle, making the young Queen smile as she approached her chambers, exhausted by an entire day of taking care of the tiniest residents of her home. She was glad the Warden -the closest to an equivalent of Hand for her- was there to take care of some of the pressing matters, she was glad that same Warden had been once a King himself -even for a while- and he knew the duty. Assorting the children by age, skill and talent had been tough, although some had an artist in them, they’d be useful as bards to spread the songs of the new Queen and Warden of the North. 

Songs helped people adjust their minds to a distant reality. Their Queen was happy, heroic, the Warden was not a King anymore, but he had done it all for them. The Dragon was slain -or at the very least, its mother- and the kingdom would prosper. Sansa had made sure to give her approval to bards who passed the appropriate messages through the songs. 

The Spring Tour was ahead, the songs would accompany them and for the first time, the people would meet their actual Northern ruler and not just a faceless governor locked up in a castle. The Red and the White Wolves were ready to roam around the North and the land was only eager and happy for the occasion. Songs were being made, receptions were under way, feasts and celebrations, each outpost, family, town and village already boasted about the celebration preparing for their Queen in the North. 

Sansa halted before her own chambers - the place once belonging to her parents- and waited as there were no guards outside, a sign of who was inside. Jon always made sure to wait for her without people close by, their secret still too tender for anyone to even be suspicious of it. She was glad she had chosen her study to be confined in her solar, the bed she shared with her husband was so close to the desk she had to share with the Warden. 

The voice was familiar but the words sounded odd, alien to her ears as she tried to even make out a word for them. 

‘Se zaldrīzoti kessa māzigon arlī se nyke kessa udrāzma zirȳ.’

The tutor of Valyrian had been sent by Braavos, mere days after the news had spread across Westeros -and right afterwards to the new leaders across Essos- about the existence of three Dragons in Valyria. Sansa had been surprised at who quickly Jon picked up on the new language. 

Even if he had been raised as the Bastard of Winterfell, Sansa’s father had made sure for Jon’s supreme education, like the Stark children but Valyrian had been a language unneeded in the North as the Common Tongue had been taught to them all. Now Sansa wondered if it was his Targaryen blood aiding him at a language primarily spoken by the Dragon Dynasty. 

She wished she had the luxury of time -or the emotional strength- to keep tormenting her mind over the hatred she felt for his dragon heritage, equally shared only by Jon himself, but the reality had finally settled inside her mind: three dragons were loose out there, her husband was the only one possibly capable of stopping them, they had to act. One dragon had been enough to destroy King’s Landing, it was more than a year since and Sansa still received reports of partial restorations while Winterfell had recovered from the Battle of the Dawn. Sansa didn’t want to think what three Dragons would be able to do. 

Sansa took a deep breath and entered their secretly shared chambers. Jon was lost in his own world as he studied a manuscript brought by his tutor who was not allowed in there but made progress with Jon in the council room weekly. Sansa had good use of him for teaching basic writing of the Common Tongue to the children brought to Winterfell when he wasn’t with Jon.

Jon’s eyes snapped at the direction of the barring door, his lips breaking into a smile at the sight of Sansa in a simple black dress, an embled apron around her waist, hair in a long braid on her side, reaching her flat stomach. The candlelight from around the room only made her look sweeter. She was beautiful, her Tully blue eyes concerned as she looked at him. Even if her dress wasn’t simple in detail, she looked informal, the apron reminding him of what housewives wore in Wintertown, maybe it was her time with the children, she seemed more relaxed, more beautiful than ever. Her worried eyes upon him however reminded him of the Queen she had become, worried over each and every matter concerning her land.  

‘How are you doing?’ Sansa asked softly as she approached and glanced at the manuscript with the strange scribing. Jon sighed, running a hand over his face before he could open his arms for her to sit on his lap. The door was barred, they were safe, she approached as he pushed the chair slightly further back against the floor for her to be comfortable with her long legs between his body and their desk. 

He planted a kiss on her clothed shoulder as she examined the words while her hands touched his arms while they wrapped around her slim waist. His scent familiar along the leather of his jerkin. 

‘Feeling like an idiot for hoping that learning a foreign language will help me tame three dragons.’ Jon admitted in a gruff voice as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. She sighed at the comfort of his warmth and desperation of his words. 

‘Have faith in Bran, he wouldn’t waste our time, or his magic, if he wasn’t sure.’ Sansa replied firmly, hoping with all her might the apathetic creature her baby brother had turned to was right. She had no doubt about Bran’s magic, she had doubts about everything else. But she had to stand up for Jon, they had only each other, they had to protect and stand for each other. 

‘If Drogon comes up here, if he’s a threat to you, how am I supposed to simply order him down like a dog?’ Jon wondered, despair painting his deep voice and Sansa sighed again, closing her eyes at the thinning hope inside them both. 

‘Rhaegal allowed you to touch him, ride him. I’m sure if- Daenerys hadn’t foolishly led him to his death by flying him so openly against her enemies, you’d had more time to do things with him.’ Sansa struggled with the words, the name of the woman who almost torn them apart, her child and ghost still lingering between them. ‘It’s in your blood,’ Sansa added, desperate to sound soothing, she was afraid she sounded accusing. 

_ ‘Half  _ my blood,’ Jon interejected, offended, guilty. Sansa sighed, trying to find a way to persuade him, and herself, that things would be alright at the end. ‘I had some time with that dragon, I won’t have time with Drogon and the others.’ Jon expressed his worry.

‘Rhaegal was a massive reptile, Jon. After so many years, we have no idea how long they need to bond or obey humans.’ Sansa tried patiently, she finally turned around in Jon’s arms to face him, she framed his face in her hands. Black circles had started to appear beneath his eyes, the visions with Bran through the weirdwood, the endless hours of studying Valyrian and the duties in the training yard, the Queensguard and the duties of the Warden had strained him, mind, body and soul. 

Sansa wondered if they would be able to have an escape route just for themselves, just for a fortnight, only the two of them. Winterfell was their home but she would give anything for a night of just the two of them, without the burdens, the duties and fears. Sansa I, Queen in the North and Jon Stark or Aegon Targaryen, whatever pleased the dragons and made people ache less, would be Sansa and Jon, only for a night. 

‘I had promised, I would protect you,’ Jon’s voice was a whisper, silenced by Sansa’s lips as she covered his mouth with hers. 

‘No one can protect anyone,’ Sansa whispered back when the kiss was paused, Jon’s eyes darkened, his arms tightening around her. 

‘You still believe that?’ he asked in the same harsh whisper. In spite of the heavy atmosphere, the noses brushing and the lips sharing the same breath, Sansa smiled at him.

‘Yes, I mean my words, I meant it when I said I believe in you, when I said I have faith in you, when I said to Briene that you are you and you will protect me,’ Sansa whispered back and Jon could only kiss her himself, harder, possessively as her hands slipped through his dark locks and his own hands held her back and the base of her neck to keep her close. Their bodies melting against each other. 

A hard knock on the door made them jump even if the door was barred and Sansa rushed to stand up. She hated the secrecy, the hiding when they were the most powerful people in the North, once again in that evening, she felt the need to escape the home she fought and bled so much to regain, with him. She sought for herself the independence she brought everyone else.

 She could see he was in no state to stand and open the door, his body betraying his desire for her. She composed herself and reached for the door, only to encounter the opposite wall of the corridor until she lowered her eyes to find a young boy - no younger than four- looking up at her with a toothy smile. She was almost certain his name was Jim, his eyes and hair black, Northern lines on his jaw, one of the orphans and bastards. 

‘The Maids want to put me to bed,’ the boy declared annoyed and Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle and bow to pick him up in her arms, raising her body with the boy in her embrace, she remembered the days she picked up Rickon while trying to help her mother. She turned and looked at Jon with a smile upon her lips, she wasn’t so surprised when she saw the stunned expression upon his features. She knew that look of his, a look of love. 

Jon felt unable to say a word, or let out a breath as warmth seeped through his bones at the sight of Sansa with a child in her arms. A beautiful sight, a sight to behold. More than a year ago, he was screaming she wasn’t getting to choose her life, her ruler, too lost in his terror for her life. Then he was slaying Daenerys to save Sansa, to save the remaining people across the continent, to give her -and them, a choice- and a ruler, her. Moons ago, he was reuniting with her, brought back and restored by her, ready to give whatever was left in him for her, for her rule, a standing chance in happiness with Sansa. 

Even if in secret, even if under threat of fire and blood once again, he would tame the fire and would spill his blood for her, for their blood, for their future. Nothing would make him happier than seeing her with children of their own in her arms, and then grandchildren running around them until they were old and grey and ready to finally rest in the crypts along their family. With the North safe and at peace with the rest of the kingdoms. 

‘They have orders from me to put you to bed, young man.’ Sansa declared back, the smile unable to go away from her lips as the young boy pouted and sighed. 

‘And why should I listen to them or to you?’ the young boy challenged and Sansa chuckled and nodded as she cradled the boy in her arms, he stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes, already tired. 

‘Because I’m the Queen, I want the best for you, sleep is good,’ Sansa replied stoically and the boy seemed slightly intimidated before he could sway in her arms and snuggle against her bosom, a finger pointed at Jon. 

‘He’s the King?’ the boy asked and Sansa smiled but shook her head as Jon smiled back, raising to his feet and approaching. 

‘He’s the Warden, the Commander of the Queensguard, you want to be a knight in it?’ Sansa asked as the boy’s eyes grew heavy, he nodded as he hid his face against the fabrics of Sansa’s dress. Jon couldn’t help but raise a hand and rub the boy’s back. 

‘Can I join tomorrow?’ the boy asked sheepishly and Sansa chuckled slightly and looked at Jon, joy in her eyes. 

A bright girl, with bright dreams, who learnt the hard way. 

‘Of course you can,’ Jon’s words were probably lost to the boy who finally gave in to sleep and Sansa rearranged him in her arms as one of the maids appointed for the toddlers, showed up from the darkness of the corridor, huffing and sweaty as she must had been searching for the boy around the entire castle. 

‘Your Grace, I’m so sorry, please forgive me,’ the maid huffed as Jon gestured for her to be quieter, her words ending in a whisper. 

‘There’s nothing to forgive, just be careful so they won’t go to the stables and some horse hits them.’ Sansa whispered as she passed the child to the woman who nodded and rushed back the corridor with the toddler in her arms, leaving Sansa and Jon on their own. 

‘That was… nice,’ Sansa kept the whisper and Jon smiled and nodded, reaching for her as they closed and barred the door again. They had spoken of children, he had names, she had dreams of them. 

In time. 

‘We need to prepare for the Tour.’ Jon tried to take their minds away from their distant future and take care of the immediate one. 

‘Prepare how?’ Sansa asked, thinking what they could have left untouched. 

‘I was thinking,’ Jon started, not sure how she would take his idea. ‘I would like you to be able to defend yourself. Your Queensguard will be there,  _ I  _ will be there, but it would put my mind at ease if I knew you can wield a knife, hidden on you.’ Jon explained quietly and Sansa remained to consider his words. 

She had been guarded during the Bread Riot when she was a child, unable to defend herself and almost raped. She wished she had been able to defend herself against Ramsay Bolton when she was sold to him. She wished she had yielded the knife instead of Arya when they ended Baelish. Arya had promised she would be the executioner, yet Arya wasn’t there anymore and Sansa knew, she was a Queen, she had to be the last defence of herself, she owed that to the North. As she looked at Jon’s face, his tired eyes, the weight she had been carrying for over a year on her own was now shared and amplified, Jon was there and she intended on being there for him as well. 

‘Alright,’ Sansa replied and Jon gave a small smile. ‘But… but you will be patient and careful,’ Sansa wasn’t sure how to express her fear, with Bolton, she had tried to avoid him, to hide, even to run towards the highest window of the chamber she was trapped in with him. Oh how she had wished she could have wielded a knife back then. She wasn’t sure she would be able to remain calm with close combat against a man, even if that man was Jon. 

‘I promise,’ Jon could only say, she could see his exhaustion but he could see her fear. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next, Jon teaching Sansa ;)   
> I hope you liked the chapter, I needed to show Jon's steady preparation for the dragons, I also wanted a scene with Sansa and a baby, lol sorry not sorry!  
> thank you for reading, comments are love and help me continue!


	16. Never Hesitate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonsa week was amazing and I salute everyone who took part in it, it was so inspiring!  
> thank you very much for the comments and kudos on last chapter, I'm more than happy to be back to this story!

Chapter Sixteen - Never Hesitate

  
  


The Queen’s chambers had turned out to be many things over the past few moons, Sansa’s -and most nights Jon’s- bedroom, the Queen’s study, the Queen and the Warden’s private council rooms, the place they hid their love and marriage. Now it was to be a training field as well, Jon thought as he started gathering around the scrolls that had been answered by both himself and Sansa. The ravens had flew with their respective responses. He had been glad more scrolls arriving were confirming the readiness of each stop for the Spring Tour and fewer over matters of dispute or discord among families and clans. He was glad the North withstood their small-minded bribes before the Queen’s visit, the feeling of unity persisted at last among the rough Northerners. 

Northerners who spoke of the Queen’s Ice starting to melt, she was smiling more, she had gathered children around her. Northerners who couldn’t help but also call her Mother Wolf and Queen of the Wolves. The secret was kept but there were whispers from the maids of how the Queen allowed her hair down more, just like when she was younger. How she started sewing again, time freed for her because of the Warden sharing responsibility. How she seemed happier, eating proper meals and sleeping proper hours of the night. The North was free because of their Queen and only rejoiced when she did. And Jon could only smile at the thought her happiness was his, he was her reason to smile and she was his. 

The door of the solar opened and said Queen smiled as she reached the rooms, she pushed the door closed behind her as she smiled at Jon. She wore a simple -by Sansa’s standards- dress with a wolf bit on her chest, most likely sewn by her own hands, her hair again on the side in a beautiful braid.

‘Ready to be defeated?’ Sansa asked with humor in her voice, underlined worry in it as Jon smiled at her and nodded. 

‘Aye, ready,’ he confirmed as he approached her, regarding his wife with a smile, his eyes falling on her copper tresses, braided delicately in a Northern style he loved. She had been through so much, forged through pain to be the Queen of the North. He suddenly felt unsure of putting her through close combat with a knife, after all he had promised to protect her. ‘I think you should gather your hair up,’ Jon offered, trying to win more time and ponder on his plan, Sansa looked down at it, shaking her head. 

‘You think my potential murderer will wait for me to gather my hair up before he attacks me?’ Sansa asked cleverly and Jon sighed and nodded at her fair point. He reached for his belt, where Longclaw usually were, given to him so long ago, for him and his future, now resting at the side of the bed. His hand reached for the dagger seethed at the smaller case. 

‘Forged for you, I had the blacksmiths take extra care of it.’ Sansa reached hesitantly, her hands trailing the blade before they could wrap around the handle, it wasn’t overly heavy, it wasn’t overly hard to handle, after all she worked with needles of every size, this was only a larger one. She brought it before their face, her eyes stopped at the Stark direwolf etched upon the handle, then they moved to Jon’s pensive face. 

‘What do you know of the uses of a dagger?’ Jon asked and Sansa sighed, a memory of another Stark giving her a dagger to protect herself resurfaced. 

‘What Arya had told me, during the Battle for the Dawn. Stick ‘em with the pointy end,’ the emotion in Jon’s eyes was something Sansa knew and expected, they missed Arya terribly. He sighed and nodded his head in contemplation, pushing down the memories. 

‘Before you even try to stick someone with it, you need to find your balance so your arm can have enough force and your hand enough space to thrust it in your enemy.’ Jon explained quietly, his hand travelling down to her hip before he could push her thigh forward. 

Her breath hitched in her throat, her mind unable to let go of the pleasure his touch enacted. He had wrapped his arms around her thighs, hoisting her against these very walls when their passion left them drunk and needy for more than tender lovemaking, just hours ago. She trusted him with her body and her heart and she couldn’t help but gulp down as she wondered if training could wait for awhile. Jon smiled up at her as he pushed her to a more balanced -and comfortable for her ankles she had to admit- standing position. ‘Could you please focus?’ he asked with a grin on his lips and she chuckled and nodded, clearing her throat. 

‘You’re right, sorry, you’re distracting,’ Sansa admitted and she would swear she felt her cheeks blushing, why she wasn’t even sure. 

‘That I am,’ Jon said, shaking his head as he suddenly snatched her in his arms with force. Sansa gasped at the jerk, the knife at her hand remained idle but that same hand had reached for his rib, the knife flat against him. For a split second instinct had kicked in, the way she had been pulled against men, immobilized to be abused easily. 

‘Very well, next time, use it to stab.’ Jon whispered in her ear. He felt equally guilty and proud she had kicked into motion so easily against manhandling. Other women could have simply squirmed away, he knew the girl that had left Winterfell, a lifetime ago, would have squirmed down and cried, the Queen before him -even though confused and conflicted over his lurch- had acted properly. 

‘Are you stupid? I could have killed you!’ Sansa shouted as she pushed him away, the dagger mostly filling her palm than being useful. Jon raised his sleeve, chainmail, she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Damn it you could have told me,’ Sansa retorted annoyed.

‘Your murderer won’t.’ Jon replied calmly. ‘Remember, ribs, chest, thighs, all are good spots for someone to bleed to death, don’t go for the throat, the head or the heart, they are smaller targets for you to reach. Your goal is not to kill, your goal is to harm them bad enough for you to escape, slow them down.’ Jon was saying and Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. He was dead serious but Sansa couldn’t help but find the situation amusing somehow. They had been through so much and now they were circling around each other, in her parents’ chambers,  _ their  _ chambers, trying to attack each other in a fake battle for her to learn to yield a knife when she yielded the North. 

Jon charged again, this time for her hands, he was being careful, not as fast as he could go. Her readjusted position helped her somehow but still she lost her balance and he backed her against the stone wall, the dagger falling with a clanking sound on the floor. He could see her eyes darkening, this time in fear, this had happened to her before, he could feel it in her stiffened body. He hated himself for doing this to her. Yet, he felt her knee going up to his crotch and pausing there. 

‘Very well,’ Jon whispered, her instinct had been right, she had done that before too, Jon had seen etched upon her skin which had been the answer to her counterattack. ‘Just don’t drop the dagger, now you could have used it.’ Jon added slowly and Sansa nodded.

‘I didn’t have it last time.’ Sansa replied quietly, her voice devoid of the humor that colored it half a minute before. 

‘Sans…’ Jon whispered, this time his body bowing to reach the dagger and bringing it back to her hands, their fingers brushing as she took it. ‘If you feel you can’t go on, we stop for today we-’

‘I’m fine, I won’t break, Jon.’ Sansa interrupted him, determined. ‘I didn’t break then and I won’t break now,’ She added and this time Jon nodded and reached for her slowly, his hands framing her face gently, stealing a kiss, to soothe her or himself of the past, he wasn’t sure. Of what he was sure was the dagger’s point pushing against the chainmail beneath his left arm, if it wasn’t for the chainmail, pushing it through, it would have reached his heart. Sansa smiled against his lips before she could open her mouth for their tongues to meet. 

‘Very good, Queen Sansa,’ Jon whispered back and she smiled as they took a moment to breathe and compose themselves. 

They parted again, Sansa tried to move to her right but Jon tried to block her way, her dagger at hand, he tried to evade her hand, he failed as she held strongly at it, awkwardly enough, she reached for his belly. Jon nodded in appreciation of her efforts, she was taller than most women he knew, her long limbs gave her an advantage. 

‘During the Spring Tour, it would be helpful if you took daughters of the Lords across the North for your ladies in waiting,’ Jon said as this time he blocked Sansa’s way and she tried to run to his left, his arm easily catching her and bringing her against him. He had decided he would talk to her while attacking her, of random things so she could focus through the distraction but without fear. ‘Many scrolls suggested it,’ Jon added casually as Sansa didn’t try to squirm away, instead, she reached back and right with her dagger, trying to reach for him. Jon only tightened his arms around her, she whimpered in effort and finally her wrist bent almost unnaturally to reach him. 

‘I hate hens following me,’ she replied forcefully through panting as she was finally freed for their next encounter. She was already feeling strands of her hair loosened from her braid, her breasts rising and falling as her breath came quickly through her lungs. ‘They could work as spies on me for their families.’ she added and regarded him carefully. She was glad old terrors remained idle, she was proud she could defend herself. Her promise to Bolton stood, everything of his would disappear, his ghost included. ‘We have a secret to guard, gathering big-mouthed girls around me would have the North knowing I’m taking Moon Tea daily at twilight.’ She added sternly and Jon sighed at her cold words, although they were right. Cersei Lannister had cut the habit of a Queen having ladies in waiting. Yet, they would be useful for future unions among noble families of the North. 

However, for now, Sansa valued the lack of spies more. Cersei Lannister had indeed given her many lessons, he wasn’t sure if that was wrong after all. He once had accused Sansa of sounding as if he admired the Lannister matriarch. Now he realized, every monster on their path, every foe and threat, worked only for their current selves. They wouldn’t be there, they would still be the little bird and the bastard instead of Queen and Warden of the Independent North. 

Jon advanced again and this time her dagger came before her faster, hoping for a low blow to the thigh instead of something forward to the chest. Jon became quicker, avoiding the clever defense, one hand moved straight for her belly and this time Sansa jerked back, avoiding his grasp. Instinct and logic told her to keep her front covered, she had watched men spar over the years, she knew they always protected their bodies. 

‘Very good, Sansa!’ Jon exclaimed proudly and she grinned, wolfishly as she actually answered the attack with her dagger reaching for his other thigh, stopping an inch before she could stab her husband and cause actual damage. 

For a heavy moment, they remained unmoving, then Jon was twisting the hand holding the dagger, not completely to hurt her, only enough to surprise her at the pain that should come but never did, she held at the dagger for dear life, cursed like no Queen would and found herself pressed against him once more. Only this time his hand took the weapon from her as she allowed him, then travelled against her front until he cupped one breast and then caressed her collarbone and neck, his hands brushed her throat with this fingers as his breath tickled her ear, causing goosebumps on her skin. The atmosphere changed rapidly as the two lovers remained against each other, breathing heavily in their tangled embrace. 

‘Never hesitate.’ he whispered against her hair before he could nip at her earlobe. 

‘I should have been ruthless.’ she whispered back as her hands let go of their tight grips on his wrists, leading one of his hands between her legs, his other hand was held to her face as she took one of his fingers inside her mouth. Jon could only gasp and groan, the warmth of her mouth, the soft mound of fabric concealing her soft flesh. ‘I should have been cruel.’ she added when she released his finger from between her lips and turned around in his arms. His hands wrapping around her body, one moving rapidly to lift the hem of her long dress to touch her bare thigh beneath. Her own hand cupped him above his breeches, making him hiss as she found him hard already, she smirked. ‘I should never hesitate indeed.’ she added huskily as her hand slipped through his clothes, to find him hot and needy for her. 

‘Exactly, love, never hesitate.’ Jon encouraged breathlessly as Sansa literally led him by his cock towards their bed, backing him to it until his knees hit its side, two played the game and before he could collapse on the furs, he took her with him in her arms, making her squeal and laugh as her hand was trapped awkwardly between their heated bodies. 

‘I’m a slow learner,’ Sansa gasped in a grin, her hand tightening around Jon’s cock, causing him to shut his eyes and breath deeply. 

‘You’re the perfect learner,’ he countered in a gruff voice as he was ready to pull at the dress.

‘Wait, wait,’ Sansa commanded softly as she reached for her nightstand, downing the Moon Tea quickly, the taste was frown-worthy but she soon gasped as Jon’s hands were cupping her ass from beneath her dress, pushing the fabric up. ‘It has cords, Jon.’ Sansa laughed in his arms as he struggled  in vain. He groaned and reached for the damn things responsible for keeping her dressed from him. 

‘Where’s your dagger?’ Jon murmured as he tried in vain to unlace it. Sansa giggled at his struggle -the sound music to his ears- as she reached behind her.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ she commanded and with one certain pull, the dress let go of its grip around her. 

‘At fucking last,’ he groaned as he peeled it off her while she was already freeing him from his own clothes, breeches, jerkin and tunic gone, they found each other only with their smallclothes seperating them. Scars, imperfections and pale skin, beloved and already worshiped by each other. 

Soon, they found each other in a dance they had been enjoying for the past moons. Jon was sat on the mattress, Sansa was astride, her legs wrapped around him as he helped her move against him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his teeth biting at her jaw as her agape mouth brushed against his cheek and nose, moaning his name breathlessly as he groaned her own against her breasts when his lips didn’t worry her left nipple, making her sob his name, her braid destroyed, allowing her hair to curtain around their faces. 

They peaked together, silencing their pleasure in a kiss for the castle not to hear. They had kept secrets before, from everyone, from each other, only this secret between them, of them, had become the hardest to hold. 

‘I love you,’ Jon whispered first as he held Sansa against him before he could collapse on his back, taking her on him, she rested curled against him, they both pushed away her rich tresses of copper hair for them to breath, Jon’s hand started caressing her mane that spilt over his shoulder and the bed. His other hand’s fingers trailed lazy circles on her skin, her own arms kept him close to her, pillowing her head. She looked up at him with a small smile. 

‘Are you happy?’ she asked quietly, Jon looked down at her bright eyes, all tired and seated, comfortable and calm. 

‘Aye, more than ever,’ Jon replied in a whisper as his hand from her hair moved to touch brush her cheek. ‘And you? Are you happy?’ he asked and she smiled, he felt as if that smile illuminated the entire room, or his soul, he wasn’t sure. She looked perfect. 

‘I am,’ Sansa replied softly. ‘No matter what is going to happen to us, I have these moons, since Castle Black. I’m happy like never before.’ She admitted and Jon could only smile and reach for a kiss which she answered happily. It was broken by a yawn she couldn’t possibly stop, causing Jon to chuckle and kiss her forehead as he moved on his side, moving her with him until she snuggled on his side, her head pillowed by his arm. He pulled the furs over them. 

‘The door’s barred?’ he asked quietly as Sansa closed her eyes, hiding her face against his skin. She nodded slightly before she could give in to her exhaustion. Jon nodded his head, eyes already closing beside her as he held her tighter in instinct.

Neither of the remaining two Starks noticed or heard the door of the solar closing, soundlessly, pulled by a figure lost in the shadows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOH! someone saw them! I hope you liked the chapter! I want to build their life stone by stone before more challenges come ahead! I hope you liked the chapter, it turned out ho on its own so I let it be.   
> in the next chapter, the Spring Tour begins!   
> Can't wait for your comments, ideas and possible suggestions!  
> thank you for reading!


	17. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK chapters take shape on their own, I needed some time to see how much a tour would last and here we are, we'll be on the road for awhile and I have some ideas for jonsa while at it, I hope you like this one! I will allow my muse to go wherever she wants as she clearly ignores the endless notes I have made for the actual plot, so here is some jonsa regal fluff <3

_ Chapter Seventeen - Free _

 

Jon spread the large parchment before Sansa, all lords assembled around her in their best attire as the Queen dipped her quill in the ink and signed the Act of Succession. 

No daughter of hers would be left behind, neglected and unheard. She had once wondered what would happen if she were to have only daughters, her Septa had shivered at the idea. Now Sansa had secured her daughters’ future as much as their sons’ were secured. She smiled at Jon as he held the parchment open, a smile shared between the Queen and the Warden for everyone else. A smile among spouses for themselves. 

‘My Lords,’ Sansa looked around her as Jon took away the parchment and gave it to one of the assistants of the archive. Everyone stood as Sansa remained on her seat, looking around at her allies. ‘I will be more than glad to see your families and our lands across the North.’ Sansa smiled around her. She had hoped for a quick tour around the North but the demand of the people to meet the Red Wolf had only added on the stops, finalizing the Spring Tour with ten stops that would need about four moons to be complete with the briefest of staying in each. 

From Winterfell to White Harbor and from there to Ramsgate, to the Dreadfort to demonstrate the Boltons were gone and only Starks remained to rule, up to the Last Hearth and through Deepwoot Motte back to Winterfell. Sansa and Jon would need weeks until she saw her home again but for the first time ever since her return, she was not afraid. A Stark should always be at Winterfell but a Stark now had to be around the North, guarding it like a wolf its nest, the North was her Nest. 

‘I want you all to make sure the people gathered from villages will be comfortable around your hearths. I want you to keep no special supplies for the royal escort while the common folk will flock around you and will need feeding and protection.’ Sansa started and everyone nodded their agreement and admiration. Right before the Battle for the Dawn, she had eaten her last meal among her fellow Northerners, with Theon. ‘I want you all to have the Godswoods ready when I reach each place. This is my only request, I need to pray and give thanks to our Gods for this opportunity.’ It had been the only request of the Queen, the religion had returned with love from the people along the independence, and Sansa had made sure there would be weirdwoods for Jon to connect with Bran for the rest of their training. They didn’t have the luxury of pausing for so long because of the Tour and it wouldn’t wait as the lords and the people demanded of their young Queen. 

‘I also want you to keep an eye out for Ghost.’ Sansa added and Jon this time looked at the rest of the Lords who nodded and glanced at him. The direwolf had never returned from the last hunt he had left for, nights ago and the next day they were to start for Castle Cerwyn, without the beast. Both Sansa and Jon were worried but they knew Ghost would be able to take care of himself. Jon had only hoped he’d be there for Sansa’s protection but she had scolded him, reminding him she had survived worse than a fully guarded tour around the land she was Queen of. 

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Lord Cerwyn spoke first with a smile on his face. He would be riding ahead and would wait as the first stop. Word had it; he had prepared an amazing feast, all Lords wished to overshadow each other for the Queen’s favour, and maybe her hand for one of their sons. 

‘You’re all allowed to start for your homes. I shall see you again as a guest of yours. Bring forward your daughters so I can include some of them in my escort,’ at those words, she glanced at Jon who nodded approvingly. ‘Bring forward the brothers of the sons who are serving in my Guard.’ Sansa added and everyone nodded eagerly. She wished she could chuckle at them, the secret was secure so far. ‘I want to meet your families, my Northern family,’ her words brought boarder smiles. They wanted her as their daughter in law, they wanted their families bound to the first Queen, they all wanted their grandchildren to be the heirs to the Northern Throne. 

Sansa knew she had the unique opportunity to establish her proximity with Jon for everyone to accept. The same Northerners had been ready to fight the Unsullied to save him, their king, after the Dragon Queen’s death. Thanks to Varys, they all knew of his Targaryen blood and therefore, the weaker relation to the Queen. They had forgiven him bending the knee before the Night King’s threat, they had accepted him back as their Warden for their Queen. Now they would accept him as an unmoving part of hers, little by little, everyone would understand that there was no room for a man in the Queen’s heart. 

  
  
  


‘My Lord, everything is ready,’ the Northman spoke as the courtyard buzzed with the preparations for the departure. Horses were saddled, ready and carrying everything needed for setting camp in the days separating each stop. From three to twelve, camping in the open would be both challenging for Jon’s fears over Sansa’s security and liberating for them. Once again they would be out there, just like when they had stood by each other’s side and reclaimed Winterfell. Only now, Spring was kind to them, the snow was melting slowly, giving way to mud and clean water, in springs, in reeks. The people spoke of the Red Wolf bringing the Spring, after the fire and blood, the ice and the Long Night. 

Jon inspected the carriage Sansa would be riding in the times she’d be tired on the horse she had insisted on having to mount for them to move faster. The carriage would keep her safer, yet it would slow them down. Jon had asked for it to be ready, with metal coated doors and the Stark sigil on them. ‘Boy…’ The man close to Jon spoke in a whisper of awe, looking behind Jon. He turned around at the astonished expression of his soldier, following his eyes to the reason of his loss of words. 

Sansa had exited the main doors of the castle, a black dress with a silver direwolf crest on her bosom, long sleeves almost reaching the ground as her bare hands remained clasped before her stomach, a leather belt kept her dagger secured to her side. Her hair braided back to her head elaborately. Maester Wolkan was her escort as she reached the yard, everyone bowed and smiled as the sun caught her copper tresses, bringing out the red in them. 

‘I hope by the time I will be back, the children will be settled, the castle will be complete. My people will be enjoying the fruits of spring.’ Sansa declared, making everyone cheer as she smiled at her people. Her eyes landing on Jon, her smile widening as he raised his hand for her. He was dressed in his best clothes, Longclaw by his side, boots and furs for the travel. 

‘You look beautiful,’ Jon mumbled only for her to hear as he escorted her to her horse, she had wished to leave with her people spotting her on her horse instead of locked up in a carriage. 

‘Thank you,’ Sansa replied quietly with a smile as she mounted her horse on her own, Jon helped her with the dress to cover her horse’s back. Everyone mounted their horses, the two Starks leading the party as Jon and Sansa trotted their horses towards the gates, followed by the cheers of the people and children running to follow as long as permitted. As trained and commanded, the Queensguard circled the Queen and Warden of the North. Two riders having left at Jon’s command for scouting ahead. 

Sansa smiled truly as she left her home, only to move around her land, never scared again of what she’d find when she comes back. She turned and looked at Jon as the cheers from behind them still echoed while they entered the Kingsroad towards Cerwyn Castle. He smiled back at her as their horses trotted close to each other. For the next moons, they were free. 

  
  


The House Cerwyn had done their best to welcome her, she would sleep at the best quarters of the castle. Jon by the room next to hers. The Godswood had been the first thing she asked to visit only with Jon as her company. Spreading the rumour of the Queen praying to the Old Gods again, religion in common brought unity and Sansa needed that for her years as Queen.

The feast at Castle Cerwyn was astounding. The Highgarden and the Red Keep’s old celebrations paled before the effort that had been made for Sansa in Cerwyn. Sansa had been overwhelmed by the crowds gathered to see their Queen.  The lords danced with the Queen happily, making her laugh as the songs changed between happy notes. Jon had remained on his sit although northern girls and ladies giggled and smiled towards his direction. He had eyes only for the Queen who always glanced and smiled at him from above the shoulder of the Lords who tried to woo her. When the Lords of Cerwyn House had danced with the Queen, praising her beauty and smile, Jon rose before Sansa could be sat. All pair of eyes followed him as he gestured at the band of musicians. He was no great dancer but he wanted to dance with the woman he loved, he wanted her to laugh close to him, for him. 

She was surprised herself at Jon’s determination to dance. She smiled and opened her arms, a sight familiar to the Northerners as they had been used to them together, as King and Lady once, as Warden and Queen now. They all clapped and cheered as he wrapped his arm around her waist, her dark blue dress making her glow, bodies coming close. They clasped their free hands and soon a happy melody started and they circled around quickly, laughing as Jon misstepped but Sansa guided him while they swayed around the space created for them from everyone who started clapping rhythmically. 

‘You look radiant,’ Jon expressed easily, effortlessly as Sansa beamed at him, his words only for her to listen. 

‘And you look happy,’ she replied and he grinned. 

‘Because I am,’ Jon confessed at her smiling eyes, the most beautiful eyes in the world. 

It was a few months ago when she was listening to sad songs at the Great Hall of Winterfell. Now she was dancing with her husband among her people, her dress swirling around their feet as they kept dancing. Soon their joined hands were leaving their grasp, bodies clasped at the sides as they circled around each other, their faces only an inch apart. Yet the people didn’t stop cheering as the two kept their proximity as the rhythm slowed before it could pick up again for them to start dancing faster. 

They parted, stepped back and clapped their hands in the old Northern dance and song before they could reach for each other again. The song spoke of a happy wolf mother and her pups. Soon, Jon was reaching for Sansa’s waist and hoisted her up, her hands holding his shoulders as he held her against him, her bosom close to his face as he kept his arms wrapped around her hips. Everyone laughed and clapped for their Queen’s delight and laughter as Sansa threw her head back and for a moment and closed her eyes. She imagined everyone knew the truth and everyone was fine with it. For a moment in time, she was free. 

She was carefully set back on the ground, just like he always did after his fierce hugs that swept her off her feet. She turned around in his arms, still held by him close to his body, they were ready to seperate, only Jon leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. Making everyone pause for a brief moment before they could erupt in more clapping for the two cousins who felt to everyone as one, no matter what had happened. 

  
  


 

‘Goodnight,’ Sansa was saying as she held the door to the room she would sleep in. Jon was leaning against it, blocking her effort to close it. Too much ale made her chuckle and grin and laugh for no apparent reason. Everyone was either too drunk and asleep or still drinking downstairs. Sansa had had the time of her life and was way more drunk than Jon himself who had kept the alcohol to a minimum. ‘You think they would notice if you slept here tonight?’ she asked, her eyes flickering with mischief and hope. Jon grinned and nodded. 

‘We’re not at Winterfell, love, tomorrow maids will wake you up and it would be a shame if they found my naked ass next to you.’ Jon replied and Sansa’s eyes widened in shock as she glanced at the corridor around them before she could burst into laughter. Jon had made sure to escort her to her rooms appointed on his own. He would send guards after he was gone for the goodswood. ‘I think we gave them enough of a show tonight.’ Jon added and Sansa scowled but reconsidered and nodded with a sigh. 

‘Oh Alright, a kiss goodnight and I’m off to bed.’ Sansa promised and this time Jon checked the corridor himself before he could lead in, grasp her chin gently and guide her in for a feverish kiss that left both breathless and resting their foreheads against each other. Damn it, sneaking into each other’s bed would be hopefully easier while on the road instead of welcoming castles and houses. 

‘I need to sleep.’

‘I need to go to the Godswood.’

‘Goodnight, Jon,’ 

‘Goodnight, Sans.’ 

‘Go’

‘You go first, love.’

Another kiss, leaving both breathless.

‘That’s an order,’ 

‘Damn it,’ 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’ 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted them all happy and on the move and received with love and I can't with these two :')   
> the dancing scene is inspired by the Volta Dance from Elisabeth I, I hope you liked it, the hard Northerners are little by little warm up to the idea huh?  
> I also needed the excuse -and tool- of religion for Jon to be able to communicate with Bran for the dragons. I think the next chapter will be fully on him and the training.   
> thank you very much for reading, comments are so very welcome <3


	18. A Terrible Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the comments and kudos, guys! so happy you like my work so far!

_ Chapter Seventeen - A Terrible Thing _

 

Jon moved through the night close to the young tree of the Godswood that belonged to Moat Cailin. Across the North, such young trees had been planted and taken care of, and just like the Queen, they had thrived within a year, slowly rising to the sky.  After Torrhen’s Square and Barrowtown, the young Starks had reached the Northerners who had received them with love and welcome. 

The feast had finished awhile back and Jon had waited for everyone to either be too drunk to move or retreated to chambers and across the fortress, the town and the nearby camp the people who wished to see Sansa from up close, had set up. No one dared reach the Godswood, respecting the sacred place. Jon had been happy the old religion, the true religion of the North was returning. 

He had been resurrected by a Red Priestess and he had wondered if the God of Light, shining through the darkness of the Battle for the Dawn, bringing him back at the Wall had been just another of the old Gods. He found solace at the idea as he reached for the tree, the old face was carving itself little by little, for now, its lines soft upon the wooden body. At their soutest stop of the tour, Spring had bloomed already in Moat Cailin, causing the tree before him to be heavy with its red leaves. 

He could feel Sansa’s gaze from the window above, she had remained awake, always worried for him when he was to be with Bran. She had promised she’d remain to wait for him, he had insisted she needed her rest, the next day they were leaving for White Harbour, she needed her sleep. 

Ghost was still gone, Jon had hoped he’d be back soon, for the past Moon on the tour, everything had been uneventful to Jon’s satisfaction but still, in times like this one, when he was away from Sansa, he wished his direwolf was with her. And in times like this, away from Winterfell, he wished his wolf was safe. 

There had been no reason to deny the hum within his blood as he reached for the weirdwood and knelt before the muddy grown, outstretching his hand and raising his eyes, the starfull sky was shown through the tree’s canopy. Soon, Jon felt his eyes drifting close as the images began. 

_ A raven screeching, a dragon’s shadow over winterfell, followed by two more. The snow had melted around the North. _

_ ‘Kill the boy jon snow, and let the man be born.’ Aemon had once told him.  _

_ Drogon was flying over the melting snow, searching.  _

_ A massive silver dragon was flying across the Red Keep before another could be hurtled at him, biting him at the neck, the massive beasts fought mid-air while thousands ran for their lives down below. The Targaryen family members were fighting with each other within the Palace of King’s Landing. Dragon blood paved the streets red as the massive beasts bit at each other.  _

_ ‘Iksan se mērī dārys!’ a man with violet eyes and silver hair was screaming to the other.  _

_ ‘Aegon, ao daor gaomagon bona!’ another was backing away from his brother. Aegon, Aemon, the dragons screeched in fury and pain from outside, the background noise of thousands screaming left the two Targaryens unphased.  _

_ Balerion, Vhagarr and Meraxes screeched as Aegon I and his sisters appeared in the dragonpit. Rhaenys held her firstborn son in her hands, pride and joy in her eyes. Vhagar snapped at Meraxes as Visenya glared at her sister, her own body swollen with just the second son.  _

_ Vhagar and Sunfyre tore at Meleys in the Siege of Rook’s Rest. The beast’s blood bathed the ground until its carcass was left to rot by the other two.  _

_ Archers were shooting down Vermax, the beast was dead midair, many arrows having aimed for the brain through the eyes, its corpse fell with a thud.  _

_ “It was all about the way the Targaryens used the beasts,” Bran’s voice echoed within Jon’s mind. He couldn’t help but sigh and feel the pain of the dragons as their images of doom and death filled his mind. They had been used, creatures of power, pride and magic, all subjected to the family with the magical blood, a family mad with it.  _

_ Jon saw through the eyes of the creature Silvewing, going wild after he saw his companion, the dragon Vermithor getting killed. The Dragon flew away, leaving everyone, riders, commanders and Targaryens to their vile vicious circle. Jon couldn’t help but understand the beast of magic.  _

_ Shrykos, Morghul, Tyraxes and Dreamfyre were all brutally slain within the Dragonpit by the angry mob, the dragons and the dragon guards along thousands of people who attacked the beasts.  _

_ ‘Why you’re showing me this?’ Jon wondered within his mind through the connection with Bran. He could feel the other end becoming weaker as he delved deeper and deeper into the past of the Targaryen line, a bloodline of such different magic from the one Bran held as the three eyed raven. Jon wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Sansa how fragile Bran’s presence felt close to him.  _

_ ‘Because I need you to understand. They’re not simply beasts, they’re not just reptiles.’ Bran’s voice was impassive. No compassion before the image of slaughter, the shrieks of the dragons made Jon wince.  _

_ ‘I know,’ the last Targaryen whispered as he watched Dreamfyre falling to her death, smashed by the Dragon’s Pit roof which she tried to break through in her mania to escape her assassins. The female dragon fell with a final screech as hundreds stabbed, axed and threw arrows at her.  _

_ Jon remembered the day he was at the edge of the cliff, his hand extended, touching Rheagal who had calmed and remained. He remembered the ash-covered day Drogon sniffed at him right after he had killed Daenerys, the dragon allowed him to live, knowing.  _

_ A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.  _

_ ‘You were exactly where you were supposed to be.’ Bran’s words echoed again in Jon’s mind. _

_ A flag of two wolves facing each other was waving into the wind, screeches of beasts were heard in the distance. Jon’s eyes widened at the scene, repeated from the dream he had, weeks ago. Now he was within the massive chamber. He recognized the place, the Throne Room of the Red Keep. The flags of Starks waved, two direwolves facing each other, the robust man moved close to the identical thrones, followed by the young woman held by his hand, both with pale skin, beautiful blue eyes. The screeces of the beasts were heard again as the dark haired man and the auburn haired woman approached the massive windows that had been rebuilt, overlooking the new dragonpit, there, three dragons remained peaceful, Drogon was among them.  _

_ Jon gasped as he turned and looked at Bran, standing before him, having appeared from thin air. He looked withered, tired, aged beyond the years the young king should be having. Jon looked back at the young ones overlooking the dragonpit.  _

_ He could not mistake the Tully blue eyes both had inherited, the eyes he loved so much, the sharp jaw of the beautiful woman, the dark hair of the man, just like his own, a mix of his and hers, theirs. _

_ His and Sansa’s.  _

_ Their future.  _

_ ‘That day, when you stopped Daenerys, Drogon did you a favour, Jon, by destroying the Iron Throne, he broke the wheel his rider so desperately -and twistedly- wished to do. He allowed you all the freedom to make not a new world, but a better one, with Sansa, with someone the people love; and you and her love equally. You were both exactly where you were supposed to be.’ Bran’s voice was tired, exhausted, cracking as Jon watched his children for a moment more before the scene could dissolve.  _

Jon’s eyes opened as the first red strike painted the sky of dawn. He took a deep breath as he tried to register the images he had just seen within his mind. He needed time to accept it all. 

He needed time and a way to talk to Sansa about it all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the future images !!!!!!  
> how we'll reach that point remains to be seen but since in chap 1 we see Aryanna already as the Queen of the seven kingdoms I only hope you're with me to discover that story to its end.  
> but I think Drogon indeed broke the wheel by destroying the throne, helping everyone move on to a different way of ruling the kingdoms  
> so this was a no sansa chap but I needed Jon on this path alone like bran had been before him. I loved researching Targaryen and dragon history to make this,  
> thank you all for reading, I can't wait for your comments and ideas on it


	19. Family Duty Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chap, very quick and formed itself on its own, it's 6 am, forgive any mistakes I was at work, then had to do a trillion things and started writing at 2 am, thank you and love you for reading

Chapter Nineteen - Family Duty Honor

 

White harbor buzzed with activity, people gathered from all over the Southern areas of the North, even below the Neck and some clans and families from the Vale, the place once allied with the Lady of Winterfell as if she was their Queen back in a time where there were more Queens than they had to be for the people. The Knights of the Vale had also sent their delegation to honour the Queen. The Tully family was there too, to see the Sansa the Beloved, as she was already called upon her people and across the border to the rest of the Six Kingdoms. 

Sansa had chosen to ride on her horse as she entered the full of people, white city. The ships held in the port were full of people wishing to see her even from a distance, the streets full of people, children perched on their parents’ shoulders, old and young were there to wave, to offer gifts, to throw flowers at her way to the main castle of the city. 

Jon kept the frown etched upon his face -a frown that hadn’t left him ever since the Godswood visions at Moat Cailin- as he watched the Queensguard formation never losing shape around the riding Queen. His eyes searching for the slightest signal of danger, his eyes glancing once in a while at Sansa’s slender waist, the dagger he had commissioned for her was there. She also wore her own Needle, the dagger-sized needle hanging from the necklace with the circle she had created for herself, in a way arming herself while honoring her sister, and him for arming the youngest female Stark so long ago. 

‘Queen Sansa!’

‘Long May She Reign!’

‘Blesed be her years!’

‘Long live the Red Wolf!’

‘Your Grace!’ 

Jon kept watching the people around them, the crowds were overwhelming, he had made sure the daughters of Lord Cerwyn and Lord Glover were also within the protection of the Queensguard, as they stood for Queen’s circle from now on. Yet, Jon only worried about his wife as he rode next to her, just half a foot behind her as protocol demanded. The people were able to see her in that way and he was able to see everyone before it was too late in case something went wrong. Jon couldn’t help shake off the idea of someone watching closely. Maybe it was the unease from the visions, the weight that had settled on his chest ever since. 

His children, dragons, King’s Landing, he had spoken to Sansa and she hadn’t taken the news any easier than him. She hadn’t wished to speak more of it, tried desperately to dismiss the visions, urging him to focus on the control of the dragons. She had insisted there was no privacy for them to speak of such things, although he had whispered the vision’s content in her ear as he held her close to him in the room she occupied. He would keep no secrets, ever again, and although she had hated the prospect, she had tried to persuade them both destiny was theirs to shape.

 Moat Cailin had been a simple open festival among the ruins of the once great stronghold. White Harbour was the largest stop so far, the people having filled the city days before the Queen could arrive. 

Jon was on edge, Spring had arrived, the crowds were suffocating, the sun in the Southern part of the North felt hotter, almost as hot as below the Neck. He felt his skin prickling with sweat, he frowned in worry and discomfort as he realized people cheered for him as well. He hadn’t been used to his people’s love, not after so long, not after what happened but Sansa had been right. People still loved him, they had been ready to fight for him after the sack of King’s Landing, they had stood for him, until they got their Queen and their independence and now they were happy to see him there once again, as the Warden, by her side. He could also see the knowledge, from the lords to the court, to the people, they knew of the dragons and they knew of him being the last one with a chance to stop them. The last Targaryen with a beast had level the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, they felt easier knowing his honour would only keep the beasts away or down. They had love for Sansa and hope for him. 

Jon felt relief at the idea of the people accepting him, them, as what they were for the past moons. Maybe, just maybe, seeing their Queen happy would be enough for everyone to accept a union of Northerner cousins, even if one was half a Targaryen. He swallowed the bitterness in his mouth at the thought, his, their children, preserving both the Stark and the Targaryen bloodlines. 

From a Stark Mother and Targaryen Father, just like himself.

But he was made a Stark, by his wife the Queen, who was half a Tully. 

Family, Duty, Honour.

_ Family, the pack survives.  _ The Starks, his mother had been the lone wolf who died.

_ Love is the death of Duty.  _ He had saved her and he had done what was necessary.

_ What is honor compared to a woman’s love.  _ Another Targaryen had once wondered. 

 How much they had been through for these three little words.

 The New Castle was beautiful in its white glory, banners of the male mermaid everywhere, guards with tridents instead of spires bowed as Sansa reached for the gate at a slow pace because of the crowds around her. She smiled, dressed in a green dress she had made herself, to honor the Manderly House which White Harbor belonged to and would host her. Wyman Manderly was evident in his massive form, waiting atop the stairs among his family and court as the Queenguard entered the courtyard. 

Sansa felt the hot sun upon her back as she rode slowly towards the New Castle. She glanced at Jon, a small sigh escaping her as she was greeted -unsurprisingly- by his frowned face.  

_ ‘What is wrong?’ Sansa had asked as he had returned in the only room that could properly host someone, and that was the Queen, from the old fortress of Moat Cailin.  _

_ ‘I...Bran is sick and he’s changing, he’s trying very hard to show me everything on time.’ Jon had whispered, his eyes frightened, she had seen him lost in fear before. Only she could detect that specific kind of fear, fear of how she’d take news. He had looked at her that way before, when a Dragon Queen was in their midsts and he had tried to balance ice and fire. _

_ ‘I saw the past, I saw the dragons, how they suffered because of their connection to the Targaryens.’ Jon added and Sansa had frowned at the words of sympathy for the beasts. ‘I also saw glimpses of the future.’ Jon had added and looked deep into Sansa’s blue eyes. The eyes others would have in the future. ‘I saw a King and a Queen,’ Jon added softly, hesitantly. He couldn’t hide the truth from her. He would never hide a single thing from Sansa.  _

_ ‘They had your eyes,’ Jon had whispered as he cupped her stunned face, her eyes softening as she understood. She knew, of course she did, she had seen them in dreams too, on the night of their union at the Godswood. A robust man, a beautiful, tall woman. ‘They also had dragons, they were in King’s Landing.’ Jon had added and Sansa’s eyes had darkened, hardened, fear, worry, disbelief, anxiety had filled them. She shook her head, not ready to accept that kind of future.  _

_ ‘Lets focus on you controlling the beasts.’ Sansa’s voice had cooled. Jon had shaken his head.  _

_ ‘Sansa…’he had tried her beloved name on his lips, a plea, a prayer, a breath of pain and relief. Not sure how to explain to her about the dragons, about control and taming. He wasn’t even sure what to say, all he knew was what he felt through Bran. All he knew was that his she-wolf wouldn’t be able to comprehend his understanding of the dragons, he half understood himself as his blood was only half dragon and as much wolf.  _

Sansa was snapped back into the present as a child made it to pass through the Queensguard for a moment, enough for the young boy to throw a flower towards the Queen that Sansa caught and enough for Jon to rush with his horse before her and the knights of the Queensguard to catch the boy and pull him back. Sansa held the rose to her nose and smiled at the child as she waved to the rest of the crowd before she could look at Jon who was watching everyone almost in anger, his nostrils flaring.  

‘Anytime, you can calm down, everything is fine.’ Sansa murmured loud enough for his cousin and husband to hear who shook his head and smiled uneasily at the crowds who cheered for the two Starks. 

‘The moment you’re safe with walls around you, I will.’ Jon grumped back and Sansa sighed as they at last reached the stairs of the main doors of the New Castle, greeted by Lord Manderly who had descended them to greet the Queen, his white hair vibrant in the sunlight. An overweight, rosy cheeked brown haired old man was by his side, smiling at the Queen and causing Jon Stark’s frown to deepen.. 

‘The kindest, the brightest and fairest of them all. Your Grace, welcome!’ Lord Manderly greeted happily as he bowed deeply along his eldest son as Sansa dismounted and approached one of the most powerful and wealthy men in the North. Her stay at White Harbor would be the longest of the stops, so she could provide over trading deals for the port, agree and sign for new routes connecting the rest of the North with White Harbor apart from the Kingsroad and new trading spots via sea with the rest of the kingdoms but also Essos. Spring was being kind to the North so far and many fields were accepting crop, if they were lucky enough, they’d be able to grow enough to trade more than ever. 

‘My Lord, it’s an honor to be a guest of yours along the Warden of the North,’ Sansa greeted politely as Lord Manderly offered his hand for the Queen to take and reach closer, the old man kissed the hand politely and smiled at Jon as he gestured for his son to reach closer. 

‘The honor is ours, my Queen. Allow me to introduce my eldest, Wylis Manderly,’ the old man smiled as his son -who could easily be the same age with Ned Stark were he alive- smiled brightly, his rosy cheeks tightening as he bowed and his hand outstretched upon the stairs. 

‘Your Grace, we’re blessed by the Seven to have you here. Over there, my sweet wife Leona and our daughters, Wynafryd and Wylla.’ Lord Wylis spoke, his eyes landing on Jon after pointing at the chubby ladies who smiled shyly from the small distance at the top of the stairs. Sansa couldn’t help but smile at the meaning Jon seemed oblivious to. She knew those eyes among men who valued young people like cattle, she was only glad this time, she seemed to be the one bargaining instead of being the livestock. 

‘And we’re blessed by the Old Gods… and New to be here, my Lords. The North should be a family, and I shall be its Mother.’ Sansa replied the kind words and both men bowed again, their fat bellies denying them to go too low, massive smiles on their cheeks. 

________________

Sansa and Jon had remained silent as the trading deals had been going on before them, all powerful traders wanted to show off before the two Starks. Speaking of deals that would benefit the North. Both Sansa and Jon knew of the black market they all had set up during the wars and they had decided before they left Winterfell of taxation all these “savours” would have upon them at arrival on every port to repay what they had done. The couple’s silence lingered as signatures were fresh on parchments, handshakes given and smiles exchanged among Northerners and Southerners who wished to have pacts. 

The Starks had asked to be escorted to the Godswood of the New Castle, another young weirdwood was there, still small but healthy. At the Queen’s request for people who wished to return to the Old Gods. From all the big cities of the North, White Harbor was the one with most people in the faith of the Seven, and the first to chop down its weirdwood. It was under the branches of the red leaves the raven had reached them with the letter.   

 

_ Your brother is withering with every passing day. His magic weakening. The city is slow to recover. We do our best to build houses and create better roads from Dorne to King’s Landing but the city is emptier than ever. Its economy withering along him. I hope this finds you, in secret, my Lady. The Lords didn’t want me to contact you, but it’s not a secret, it’s what an older sister should know.  _

 

_ Sincerely, with all my love.  _

 

_ B _

Written without obvious titles in case it falls in the wrong hands. Brienne had been discreet and honest, verifying what Jon had seen through his vision, plunging both Jon and Sansa into a depressing silence. Another storm was approaching and these were only the first drops hitting their faces even if they stood in broad daylight without a whisper of a cloud above them. 

Sansa had wondered if this was the reason Ghost was gone, was he reaching the young Stark? A company they couldn’t provide for the youngest of the family who wasn’t the family he used to be. He was the memory of the world, he was the Three-Eyed Raven and he was in a position he didn’t belong nor wanted, too far South, too far in the present, plunged into a magic non compatible with him. He was a raven and a wolf, not a dragon, he worked through the weirwood, he had nothing to do with the blood of old Valyria yet he pushed deeper into the wound he had opened to himself to help Jon, to save everyone. He had done what honour and duty demanded, family still in name and authority. He was -or used to be- half a Tully too, after all.

The meeting was over before either of the Starks could realize so many pairs of eyes turned towards Sansa who finally set her mind back into the present and nodded with a smile. 

‘I’m only happy my land,  _ our  _ land is thriving thanks to all of you. I only wish to see our goods produced, traded and distributed across the land, offered at  _ reasonable  _ prices to feed everyone. I wish for the North to strive until the next Winter comes.’ Sansa’s words were welcomed with cheers and raised cups. Jon did the same and emptied his ale, needing it more than he had realized. Sansa raised first, allowing everyone to do the same, the chamber was emptying and Jon took her hand in his as he leaned to whisper in her ear, innocently enough for two cousins to act around each other, especially when these two shared state secrets. 

‘I’ll be at the Godswood, see what I can do about Bran.’ Jon’s voice was a whisper, kind and tender as she closed her eyes and nodded. When they reopened, her eyes moved to the open door as Lords exited and the small flock of ladies waiting for her outside lingered. She sighed at the idea of having them around her. She should find a good use to put them to, and a small distance as well. Sansa’s eyes then traveled to Lord Manderly who waited patiently behind, Sansa knew this patience. She would have to remain behind as well. 

‘Try persuade him to… I don’t know, to take care of himself.’ Sansa whispered back, her face only half an inch away from Jon’s who nodded and finally moved away, fighting every urge to touch her more, to kiss her, to embrace her and never let her go. 

The moment Jon exited the room, a serving boy entered the chambers to serve the Queen and Lord Manderly the rich wine from the Vale- no doubt- as Sansa sat back down and smiled at the fat Lord who clapped his hands and sat down at her right, where Jon used to be sitting until a few moments ago. Sansa waited as the boy served them the wine, her eyes still on the Lord who remained smiling for no apparent reason. 

‘Your Grace,’the  Lord spoke the words effortlessly as he gulped down his drink. Wine was for celebrating, Sansa knew, she reached for it too, she favored it over ale, after all.  She looked at the man before her and waited, calculating his laughing eyes. ‘I was blessed with two sons, and blessed again with granddaughters.’ the man started and Sansa nodded her head, recalling the chubby family she had been introduced to before. ‘In my years, I was also blessed with a Queen who brought independence.’ he added with a gesture of his cup towards her. Sansa smiled and gestured back before they could drink at that. ‘I followed your family all my life, your Grace. Your Lord Father during Robert’s Rebellion. Your brother, Robb, the Young Wolf,’ the man started and Sansa swallowed hard at the mention of the lost Starks, the pieces of hers she’d always miss. ‘And when time was dark and hope lost, I -along the rest of the Lords of the North- declared Jon Stark as King in the North, with you by his side, there was hope.’ Lord Manderly added and Sansa sighed. ‘He did his best to save us, our pride was devastated when he left for Dragonstone but his sacrifice saved us from the Long Night, the Mad Queen and made you Queen and we could ask no better ruler,’ he added and Sansa smiled in thanks, a knot in her throat stopping her breath momentary. The past, the present, complicated and painful and unstable. 

‘You have fought your own battles, battles no daughter should suffer but you’re a Northerner and I value you as much as I did your father and brother and the Warden.’ the Lord went on in what he hoped was sweet words, only they had Sansa fighting tears of frustration, first the vision, Bran, now this, she just needed time. ‘I consider you the Matriarch of the Stark House, even if your legitimized cousin, the Warden, is older than you. And I understand your desire not to marry soon, or ever for that matter.’ the man was speaking to her in a fatherly tone Sansa hadn’t heard in ages and wasn’t sure she appreciated. She wondered when the room felt so small, it felt less suffocating when she entered it among more than twenty people a few hours before. 

‘But house Stark needs heirs.’ the man was saying and Sansa’s mind filled with the flashing images of the robust man and the tall woman, they would be dragon riders, they would be Starks, her Heirs. ‘And my house needs to go on, two old sons, one unmarried, the other with two daughters…’ the old man seemed sad on the turn of events before he could look at Sansa with hope. ‘Only one woman in the North can name her children after her and I stood witness when she signed her Act of Succession….’ he added with a smile of pride, Sansa now understood why he had been one of the few who hadn’t protested at all at the prospect of another Queen in the North after her Sansa I. 

‘But the Warden, thanks to you, is a Stark as well…’ the man finally cut to the chase and Sansa’s mind cleaned of her past and future and remained in the present as she calmed her breathing. ‘My granddaughters might not be the most beautiful in your kingdom but they will be good wives if we - _ you and I _ \- were to choose one of them for the Warden. We’re the heads of our houses, we could arrange a marriage that would make them -and us- happy.’ Lord Wyman finally concluded and Sansa grabbed the cup of wine and drank to hide her chuckle in a kind of choke she couldn’t be able to stop. She was thankful the serving boy had slipped a cup of the ones he was gathering around the chamber, covering the sound of her choke and causing Lord Manderly to glare at him but keep his manners before the Queen who took care of orphans and bastard children. 

Marrying away her husband, she had expected this would happen, she just hadn’t expected the absurdity of it when it’d happen. She valued the hopeful Lord before her. Lord Manderly wasn’t the most powerful of her Lords by accident or fate. Varys’ letters had reached him like they had done to all Lords around Westeros. He knew Jon was the last Targaryen and he knew of the Dragons, beasts of magic, of Fire and Blood. Even if Sansa hated it, Jon -to many- wasn’t just the honorable Jon Snow -a name given by Ned Stark- or Jon Stark -another name given by Sansa Stark-, he was also Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, the Targaryen of whom the coin flipped by the Gods, fell on the right side. 

Sansa knew, the Lords were smart but this one before her was cunning and had planned it all. Let her stay unmarried forever, Manderly hadn’t aimed for a husband for her -since he had no one to come up with anyway- she would have to appoint her Heirs after a point so he had aimed at Jon. But even if she had, her children would lead of the North, but Jon’s children would be able to lead of the Six Kingdoms, and maybe reclaim the Seventh Kingdom of Westeros and destroy its Independence. All of then knew, both in the North and the South, that stupid way of small elections among the Council Tyrion and Sam had came up with, was stupid and foul and it was the reason Sansa had pulled the North from it to save it the trouble in time. 

Now, she internally wondered what Lord Manderly would think if he knew his Queen was thrice married already, with the Warden for that matter. The Warden who had been between her thighs panting and spending inside her while groaning her name only hours before dawn. She wondered how Manderly would feel if he knew the Heirs to the kingdoms were already a possibility in their parents’ future and the only thing preventing them from existing was timing and Sansa’s daily dose of Moon Tea. 

Sansa remained in silence for a while longer, she finally set down the cup and for a moment wondered how much she looked like Cersei Lannister at that moment. Plotting for the future, keeping the crown intact, fucking secretely her cousin -who she wanted even when she thought him a brother- and drank wine before oblivious Lords. 

A robust man and a tall woman. They’d be nothing like Joffrey and Marcella Lannister, they’d be like Robb Stark and Lyanna Mormount, only smarter and luckier respectively. 

‘My Lord, from my house, I have mourned more people than a daughter should have. I saw my father beheaded. I never found my mother and brother to bury, the only one I burnt and buried in the crypts of Winterfell was the youngest of my brothers. The one he should bury me in the right time, if life had been kinder to us.’ Sansa started and Lord Wyman nodded sorrowfully, his head bowed, Sansa wanted to believe he meant his pain. ‘King Bran will never have children. I am open to find happiness yet I’m not sure I will,’ Sansa lied easily, having already found it. ‘Especially since your sons are old enough to be the age of my late father.’ Sansa added diplomatically and Lord Wyman nodded again. ‘But for Jon, I wish him the best. I wish for him to find a wife who will love and take care of him as he has been through so much himself.’ Sansa’s words were sincere, glad she was that one for her husband. ‘I would never bind him to a marriage like Joffrey did for me with Tyrion Lannister and then Baelish did for me with the Boltons.’ she knew her words would put a permanent halt. Lord Wyman had been there when Arya sliced Littlefinger’s throat at the Great Hall of Winterfell. 

‘But,’ she added, always serving some hope through diplomacy. ‘I’d be more than happy to have the granddaughter you believe is readier to be among my ladies in waiting. In that way, she will be close to me -and to the Warden- and if fate brings them together, I will only be blessed and happy to welcome her in my family and if I am not to have any of my own, appoint their children as Heirs to the Northern Throne.’ Sansa’s words filled the man’s eyes with hope and triumph. Sansa would swear she heard the serving boy chuckle at the man’s face but she didn’t have time to check the boy herself. 

‘I could even facilitate their marriage at the Godswood of Winterfell, or the Sept here at White Harbor. I have been married in both faiths and I know how beautiful both rituals are.’ Sansa’s words were shameless, unstoppable as to make the old Lord agree with a smile and have him forever her ally. He did so by beaming, Sansa knew she’d be doomed to Hell of both faiths if Gods existed indeed. She was glad she had stopped praying a long time ago, being done with all that. She was also glad Jon wasn’t around or he would have screamed and protested how easily she planned out his imaginary life with one of Manderly’s granddaughters. 

‘I will talk to Wynafryd,’ the Lord said and Sansa only heard the meaning behind the words, he’d simply command the poor girl she was to abandon her home quiet possibly forever. ‘She will follow you to the Tour, House Manderly’s greatest honour!’ the man beamed and clapped his hand. ‘And who knows, maybe until the Summer, we’ll be one united family!’ the man’s booming voice had Sansa chuckle this time, openly, freighting happiness when all she felt was amusement. 

‘To family!’ she gestured her wine, irony evident but lost to the Lord before her who clicked his cup with hers with more force than politeness demanded but he didn’t mind as he emptied the rest of the wine. 

‘I’m going to talk to Wynafryd right away, Your Grace. You’ll see, she’s amazing at sewing and singing.’ he praised and Sansa smiled with closed lips. Wondering how easy it is to make men think they rolled you up in a piece of parchment. 

‘Great, I can’t wait to meet her at tonight’s feast. I’m sure it will be magnificent.’ Sansa replied and the Lord clapped his hands again and nodded with a low bow. 

‘You will be honored as a warrior, a Goddess, the Mother of us all!’ The wine was talking, Sansa was sure but she didn’t care as long as the man was out of his own council chambers and allowed her some peace. He left with more curtsies until he was out of the door and rushing to some direction Sansa didn’t care to follow with her hearing as she allowed her back to the chair and sighed as the boy approached and she held out her hand with the cup for the wine to be refilled. She glanced at the young child and her hand stilled as the red liquid fell inside the cup carefully. The boy’s eyes left the wine and looked straight into Sansa’s. A bold move no servant would do. Sansa knew of the way children looked, that one didn’t look as it should, Sansa knew of the game. She stood up and rushed to the door, closing it to conceal the boy from the guards Jon had left at her door. She turned and gasped, tears gathering in her eyes as she saw the familiar face finally clear of facades. 

Sansa rushed closer, wrapping Arya in a tight hug which her sister returned tightly. The two sisters remained in silence as Sansa realized her baby sister had grown just a tiny bit taller, and much more tanner. She brought her at arm’s length, looking down at the young woman. She had missed the strongest person she knew. Sansa couldn’t help more tears gathering in her eyes the moment she realized Arya was as tearful. 

‘I missed you,’ Sansa whispered before Arya could hug her tightly again. 

‘I missed you more.’ her voice was the same, soothing, familiar like the walls of winterfell. ‘And I missed Jon.’ she added and Sansa looked down at her sister. 

‘He’s pardoned and returned, he’s-’ Sansa tried to explain, not sure for how long Arya was in Westeros, or close to her for that matter. 

‘The Warden, learning how to control the beasts from the East.’ Arya spoke of the dragons with ease, as if speaking of horses, vacing faith in Jon. Her voice dropped for the rest. ‘He’s also your husband, he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him.’ Arya’s voice wasn’t just a whisper, it was also sober and calm and Sansa felt her stomach dropping. She had no idea how long and why Arya knew. But she wasn’t surprised, only frightened her sister would hate her. 

Arya would never hate Jon, like Sansa hadn’t been able to hate him before, when their family was almost torn apart. But Sansa was always afraid her sister would hate her again like she did when they were children. ‘And I’m happy for you both,’ Arya’s whisper only made Sansa sob and wrap her arms around her younger and much shorter sister again. 

‘You are?’ Sansa asked afraid. 

‘Of course I am. We have a knack for highborn Bastards turned Lords,’ Arya spoke the truth and Sansa could only chuckle through her tears before Arya could pull back and look up at her sister. ‘After all, you both have been through enough. You deserve some happiness, even if seems gross to me, deep down, I get it, it fits, you two fit.’ Arya struggled with the words and Sansa could only cry more as she hugged her sister once again, almost smothering her and causing the young Stark woman to roll her eyes but wrap her own arms tightly around the Queen in the North. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES ARYA IS BACK!!!! AND POL!SANSA WAS ALSO BACK AND READY TO PLAY MATCHMAKER FOR JON lolol  
> Yes Bran is not well and Sansa and Jon know so, they also know things are about to change soon, I want to show how hard for them to consider their children something more than just Stark heirs but I also want them to remember they're not "just Starks" themselves, I hope you're enjoying this as I had hoped the show would explain more of Jon's pov his Targaryen side and his connection to the dragons and the bloodline of his father and I know Sansa won't be able to understand him on that -or maybe she won't want to understand- but still, he needs to discover all that as to feel and understand deep in his bones what to do with the dragons (something dany didn't do either as she used the dragons like children in an abusive parent-mother relationship of raising them like dogs, never training them, chaining them up when got it bad and then exposing them stupidly in danger) whateeever
> 
>  
> 
> I loved making the chapter, a lot of things happened and more are to come  
> I hope you liked it all, I can't wait for your comments  
> thank you very much!


	20. The Pack Survives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love making domestic fluff :D  
> I can't believe we're at 20 chapters, thank you for following me through all this <3

 

_ Chapter Twenty - The Pack Survives _

 

_ Aegon the first was commanding the dragon Balerion through gestures and words for him to forge the ugly throne, made by the swords of the native lords of Westeros who had knelt in exchange for their survival.  _

_ Jon watched in awe at the moment the Iron Throne was created. The symbol of Westerosi monarchy, and in many cases tyranny. He was the only man alive who had seen its destruction by another dragon which now Jon sought to control.  _

_ ‘We’re not alone anymore.’ Bran’s voice was heard, smooth, apathetic as Jon looked at the man who was supposed to be his baby cousin. In the young man’s withering skin, frail appearance and exhausted eyes, Jon could see the Three Eyed Raven he had learnt Bran currently was. ‘The pack survives.’ Bran mumbled before Jon could be pulled back into the present.  _

He withdrew his hand from the weirwood and sighed as he straightened his body and turned around, he could feel the presence of someone beloved, he could sense their anticipation. His eyes widened in disbelief as Sansa stood inside the Godswood, Arya smiling happily at her side. For a moment, Arya and Jon remained frozen in their spots, Sansa waiting for their mutual registration of being back close to each other. Their faces broke into huge smiles as they rushed to each other and met in a hug. Jon lifting Arya off the ground, just like they had reunited in the Godswood of Winterfell. 

 ‘How long you’ve been aroun’? Jon asked as he set Arya back on the ground and smiled at her softly, a smile he kept for the only Stark woman he actually considered a sister as with Sansa, he had always been distant while they were children.  Arya smiled, glancing between him and her sister and smiled pointedly. 

‘Long enough...’ Arya replied softly and Jon’s eyes drifted to Sansa who nodded. 

‘She knows,’ Sansa replied the unspoken request she could see in his eyes along the alarm. Sansa approached and stood between Jon and Arya, mostly at Jon’s side, looking at Arya who remained silent but smiling. 

‘I’m happy for you, for your happiness, that’s what matters to me. That’s what should matter to everyone,’ Arya explained easily, looking at Jon. They had found each other in another city, falling ash instead of spring droplets around them. They had seen destruction, they had killed the Night King and the Dragon Queen, all to save the people and among them: the Queen in the North. Jon couldn’t help himself as he hugged Arya again, relieved for her acceptance, apart from Maester Wolkan, Bran and Brienne, Arya was the next to know, their closest and most trusted people knew and accepted them.

‘Are you staying?’ Jon asked and Sansa this time snorted. 

‘Of course she is! We named her Heiress Apparent in case of no children and Sole Protector of the Heirs in case of them.’ Sansa replied for Arya who rolled her eyes, humor painting them. 

‘You pased a  _ law _ to keep me in the North in case I returned?’ Arya asked dumbfounded and Sansa smirked at her. 

‘Serves you right for leaving me… for leaving Gendry.’ Sansa quipped and Arya glared at her with a smirk on her lips. Jon was sure, if they were in Winterfell, they would even engage in a snow fight. He had missed on their relationship while he was at Dragonstone and Arya had returned but he could see the two sisters had grown close. Their father would have been so happy and proud. Arya had once told Jon, Sansa was the smartest person she had ever met. Jon back then had only agreed without a word, hoping to lure the danger away from the bright Lady of Winterfell. When he had seen Arya again, after the destruction of King’s Landing, he had been ready to leave with her, abandon the city and run to the North to prepare, Daenerys had been ready to burn them all, the North, Sansa, the two things that became one and Jon lived for. Only afterwards, Tyrion -by using exactly the person Jon couldn’t resist- had shown Jon there was one certain way for Daenerys never to reach Sansa. 

 Now, he was only happy he could see Sansa only gained more people and more family members around her, she would never be lonely again. He would never leave her again.

 ‘Gendry is invited to the North, by raven.’ Arya announced, Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise. 

‘He is?’ Sansa asked and Arya nodded with a smirk. Gendry’s return to Winterfell would help preserve ties with the man who became a Lord because of Daenerys Targaryen, but gave his heart to a Northern Princess. With Gendry completely by their side, there was only Yara Greyjoy who possibly still objected with Jon’s return and restoration as Sansa took care of the North and Tyrion of all their southern allies and enemies. 

‘By the Heiress of Winterfell.’ Arya answered with a smile and Sansa nodded in agreement. ‘He’ll be at Winterfell by the time the Tour ends and we’re back at Winterfell.’ Arya added and Sansa didn’t have to ask how her sister knew of the tour plans and schedule, she was only happy she used referred to their return home. ‘Yes, I have been around long enough. Wanted to make sure of certain things.’ Arya added and Sansa could guess those things. Arya had wished to see if Sansa had enemies that needed to be taken care of. She wanted to protect the pack once she was back. 

‘Meera Reed is in the city, she is invited to the feast tonight.’ Arya informed Sansa, Jon looked at them in confusion as Sansa turned to him. 

‘Meera was the reason Bran made it back to Winterfell. She saved him because she believed he was important for our fight against the Night King, among other things.’ Sansa added and Jon frowned in confusion. ‘I know a woman in love when I see one.’ she added and Jon finally nodded, not sure what to say. There had been so much he had lost from his home while he had played the Game of Thrones far away from it. ‘Just like I see our Arya here,’ Sansa added to tease her sister who clicked her tongue and actually swatted Sansa who replied by playfully shoving her sister. Arya laughed as she gathered a handful of melting snow, Spring made it muddy and mossy. ‘Don’t you dare!’ Sansa exclaimed, hands raised. Her hair would need hours to be made if Arya threw that handful. ‘I’m your Queen! This is a command!’ Sansa added with a laugh.    


She squealed and ducked behind Jon as Arya finally threw the muddy snow, hitting him square in the chest. Arya’s eyes widened as Jon protected Sansa and lowered enough to get only mud from a spot the snow had melted completely. Arya screamed and tried to shield herself as Jon countered the attack. Sansa found the opportunity to escape the battlefield. Only to be chased by both Arya and Jon who caught up with her and toppled her on the muddy ground. Coaxing screams and pleads from the young Queen who begged and cursed and laughed as the three Starks fought against each other at the edge of the Godswood. Never in their years, had they had such fun as a family, their childhood had been stolen, by duty, by titles and positions. Now as Queen, Warden and Heiress, they were more carefree than ever. 

_____

 

The Wolves had been the last to enter the feast in their name as they had to take baths and take off the mud from their hair and clothes. Yet no one minded the late arrival as everyone cheered for the Starks. Sansa had Arya on her right and Jon on her left, both raven haired Starks held their swords on their sides while Sansa this time moved to the feast without her dagger, trusting her closest people for her safety. 

Lord Wyman Manderly couldn’t be happier for the joyous event of Arya Stark’s return at the time of the Queen’s visit. The Dawn Bringer, he had called her as he raised his goblet, followed by everyone in the Great Hall of the New Castle, the Queen smiled at her sister proudly. Jon Stark, the man who united them all, creating the greatest army ever assembled against the dead. Arya Stark, the Night King’s slayer, Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North were all around his table and it was clear he had won the bet among the other Lords of who would set the greatest feast for the Spring Tour. 

Ale poured in cups again and again, beer, wine and mead filled the bellies along meat and warm bread. The Northerners danced along the traders and the people from the Vale, the Neck and the Reach. All in honour of the Starks, and for the first time, Jon, Sansa and Arya enjoyed themselves, even away from Winterfell, they were at home for the North was theirs, no matter what. There were no spies and no disguised killers, the years of the wars were ended and Sansa knew, once the Dragons were dealt with too, she’d finally be able to actually enjoy her rule and sleep through the night without worrying. Being the Queen -even if motherless and childless- made her feel like she was Mother to the entire land, worrying her sleep and troubling her mind. 

‘Go on! I believe in you!’ she called out to both as Arya and Jon emptied their large cups of ale. Arya beating Jon to it as she slammed it down first, triumphantly. They all laughed and then it was Sansa’s turn against Arya. Everyone cheered and laughed surprised as Sansa made it to gulp down her own ale first, even if she almost choked on it. Arya cursed her sister’s capabilities, hidden by everyone and Sansa only laughed harder as she rested her head on Jon’s shoulder. The ale allowing her to be more relaxed around her husband even in front of others. No one paid any mind to them, as she felt the alcohol warming her blood and clouding her brain, she was only glad she and Jon painted a normal picture, a familiar one, no one looked suspicious or annoyed, repulsed or disappointed. 

They were happy, just like herself, just like her family. She only lingered against Jon who wrapped an arm around her back, careful enough but not unresponsive altogether. He was laughing, he was drinking and singing on the songs written and sung for them. That song about the Red and the White Wolves again. Sansa winced playfully at his voice, keeping a mental note never to let him lul their children to sleep as he was incapable of following on a single note. 

_ Children _ , that robust man and the tall woman. Suddenly Sansa couldn’t wait for the future. Now that Arya was back, another person she knew would give her life for their family. Sansa felt safer, she felt whole, the threat loomed along the dragons but suddenly, Sansa felt strong enough to shout out to everyone that she was a married woman, a woman ready to become a mother, a woman whole and loved and happy. She felt dizzy and laughed as Arya was laughing at something Jon had said but Sansa had missed.

 Jon was downed another cup of ale before he could turn and look at the woman by his side, her head resting on his shoulder, like so many women leaned against their partners in that hall. He could only lower his lips on her forehead for a kiss, causing her eyes to drift close and a smile to form on her lips. 

‘Go to my rooms, I’ll find you there, no maiden gets in there in the morning.’ Jon whispered to Sansa’s ear, he had been feeling warm all over since the first cup of ale, since the first dance with the Queen that evening. He couldn’t help but want his wife as he looked down at her, his blood humming with something that had nothing to do with the magic related to dragons, it was all for Sansa and what she made him feel every time she smiled at him. 

Sansa nodded and stood, the Lords still able to stand in respect did so, the rest raised their cups to her and Sansa only waved her hand for them to continue enjoying themselves, happy no one gave much thought to her retreating for the night. Arya only smiled at her goodnight. Sansa’s hand brushed Jon’s shoulder, still warm by her own head there as she left the Great Hall. She passed by her own chambers, no guards, Jon had made sure of it, she entered the chambers next to hers. She smiled as she saw Jon’s furs she had sewed upon a chair close to a desk. She shut the door behind her and started taking off her boots and releasing her braids, struggling on her own as the alcohol didn’t grand her steady moves. 

She reached behind her to pull at the cords holding her bodice in place only to be greeted by a warm body against her own as Jon entered swiftly the room and reached for her from behind. He hadn’t waited enough, a voice whispered within her head. Who cares, she wanted him, another voice argued as she turned around in his arms. They shared a kiss of passion and need as his arms wrapped around her unfolding dress on the back and hers scraped at the nape of his neck and his jerkin, pulling at it desperately. 

‘Eager, are we?’ Jon’s breathless, gruff voice teased her as he nipped at her jaw. 

‘Desperate,’ Sansa replied in a moan as she got rid of the jerkin, breaking from him to pull it over his head. He found the chance to tag at her heavy dress, making it meet the ground at her feet, she stepped out of it as Jon brought her hard against him, making both gasp. Sansa cupping him above his breeches, making him groan her name weakly. 

‘I had the chance to marry you off today, to another woman, I said no,’ Sansa whispered breathlessly as he cupped her right breast, kneading it as he lowered his mouth to her left one, above her sheer shift, wetting the material, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin, a broken moan escaping her lips. 

‘You’re my Queen, you could have commanded me to,’ Jon whispered once he released her breast, nuzzling his lips against her hardened nipple. He got rid of his breeches and underclothes quickly. 

‘I command you to lay on the bed,’ Sansa gasped as she led him to the large bed of the chambers, he did as commanded and she climbed above him after she took off her own smallclothes and left the shift on. He loved the idea, the sheer, cold material, the hot skin beneath, flashes of her milky thighs from beneath it, dark nipples concealed and at the same time profound from within. Jon gasped her name as Sansa lowered herself on his cock without a whisper more of building up each other. She was soft and warm and tight like a glove and he could only moan her name in awe of her beauty, of his love, of their union as Sansa started moving above him. 

Within those moons, she had changed. The ice had melted around the North and around her heart. Her body had stopped flinching in instinct, on the contrary, it was responding with eagerness, with need and heat at his every touch. She was a woman in love and she was happy, even if the marriage was a secret, there was no error in it, and when it was just him and her and their bodies flush against each other, everything was right in the world. No withering king in the South and no dragons in the East, no secrets in the North and no lost sister to the West. While in their bed, the world belonged to them for they were each other’s world. 

‘Jon,’ Sansa whispered breathlessly as she rode him, her hands against his pale chest, covering the scars above his beating heart. Her hair cascading down her back and in front of her, a shock of fire against pale skin and sheer cloth. His hands supported her thighs, one snaking between them and finding their union, her bud of nerves, flicking it even with the shift pooled around her. She gasped and moaned, again and again, until she cried out his name in ecstasy and pleasure, head fallen back, lips parted in gasps for much needed air, eyes shut in bliss. 

Her sight was one of a goddess, a beautiful creature, a woman he longed for when it was strictly forbidden, the woman he sacrificed it all for, himself included. The woman who restored and took him in, in her life, in her home, in her power, in her body. A woman he adored and was adored by, his woman, his love,his, his Sansa. 

‘Sansa, love,’ he could whisper as he let go, his own orgasm making him spasm and stutter beneath her as she rode out their pleasure before she could collapse on his chest, breathless, sweaty, covering him with her hair to the point he had to take a few strands away with a lazy hand, the other one wrapped around her protectively, their bodies still joint. 

They lay there, coming down from their peak. As the moon traveled across the Northern sky for the rest of the night, the two lovers drifted between light sleep, passionate lovemaking and laying wide awake, enjoying each other’s heartbeat, each other’s very presence. 

Both forgetting they were in Jon’s chambers, only the Moon Tea remained forgotten on the nightstand, in the Queen’s quarters.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they forgot the moon tea!!!!!!  
> and they are happy!!!!  
> and arya invited gendry!!!!  
> and meera is in the city and close by!!!! <3  
> what do you think, guys? thank you for reading! can't wait for your comments!


	21. Hopefort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still Christmas day here so Happy Holidays to everyone! sorry for the small hiatus, I'm a hairdresser and work gets crazy around this time of the year, plus the best friend broke up out of the blue and I had to be there whenever I wasn't working, the pack survives and I had to stick with my Arya through her hard time <3

_ Chapter Twenty One - Hopefort _

  
  


‘Sansa looks like shit,’ Arya spoke quietly as she and Jon rode on through the Kingsroad, reaching Northwest, at the end of the horizon, the ugly castle was standing out like a shadow even in broad daylight, the snow was still white and melting around them, only this and the Last Hearth separated them from the Wall and word had reached them it was indeed starting to melt. 

Jon glanced back at the carriage carrying his wife and sighed, grateful he had ordered it built. Jon looked at Arya, riding Sansa’s horse as the Queen had refused to ride her horse for the past days as they kept on with the tour. 

‘I know,’ Jon said gruffly. ‘I know,’ he repeated mostly to himself as his breath fogged before him. ‘She’ll be alright after we’re done here.’ he hoped, so hard, as Arya glanced at the carriage herself and then back at him. 

‘We should keep this stay at a minimum, only a night, if possible. We must.’ Arya’s words were laced with worry, causing Jon to lock his eyes with Arya’s and finally nod his head. Canceling the Tour at that point would make Sansa look weak, the Queen in the North had a powerful reputation of surviving, of giving her oppressors the treatment they deserve. The North Remembers, and they would always remember her retreat if they were to stop now. They had to push forward, no matter the personal cost, a cost Jon had been paying mutually for the past weeks with Sansa.

The days following the stay at White Harbor passed in a fuzz of talks between traders and Lords, always reviewed by the Queen and the Warden. Arya and Meera followed, to Sansa’s immense relief and joy but as they departed for Ramsgate, a joy extinguished as the days passed. Jon could see Sansa’s mood was changing, darkening, and he knew the reason for it, they would be reaching Dreadfort within a day after more than a week on the road. The Spring Tour had continued through Ramsgate, where Sansa barely slept and met Lords, Ladies and smallfolk from dawn to dusk for a week and then through Hornwood, where the feast left her unsatisfied, her sleep left her shaking with nightmares for the first time in a long time and the days there felt as endless as in Ramsgate no matter the love of the people and her family close by. Her exhaustion from the tour, matched with her darkening mood was changing to physical symptoms as she barely ate and slept through the days on the road, feeling weak and sick most of the day, restless through the night, putting on a brave face when people were around. That was her primary reason for staying hidden in the carriage, she trusted only Jon and Arya and Maester Wolkan, the rest felt like a thorn at her sore side. 

Jon had been there for her, in the middle of the night, and he took no offense as she refused to be intimate with him, he knew, he had expected it. Dreadfort had been the Boltons’ stronghold, and Sansa had to face that part of the North as hers. Ramsay had promised her he’d never be forgotten, that he was part of hers too, she had confessed his words to Jon through one of the sleepless nights when they had first reunited at Castle Black. He had lost his sleep after that night, promising to himself -and her- that he’d protect her no matter what.

She had declared she’d never go back alive if they lost the battle of the Bastards and he had asked Melisandre not to bring him back if he died on the battlefield. Now as the  Queen and Warden, they were reaching the only fortress still traitorous to the Starks. He had tightened the Queensguard around her, losing his own sleep over her safety, he was on edge just as she was. Only he kept to himself the fact of Bran withering more and more as he kept trying to teach Jon the magic of dragons, while being a king too far South, too far away from the rest of humanity. 

He felt his walls crumbling down as the training exhausted him added to the rest of his worries over Sansa. He hated to see her building her walls around her again. He had been the one to reach through them. She had been through so much and no matter how regal and powerful she was now. Jon knew, every night, when he traced the fading scars on her skin with his fingers, he knew of the horrors she suffered. And he knew, this was an obstacle she had to overcome herself -once again- an act of initiation, of absolution for the North to be truly loyal to her. 

Sansa had her own plans for the fortress. She would take it apart, just like she did with Ramsay. She would declare the change of its name, order the small houses around it to take it down and build an entire town from its stones. She was to establish her reign through the smallfolk that would benefit with better housing from the ugly fortress. She would be loved, she would be respected, no one could scare her, no one would make her yield. She was a survivor, she outlived monsters, smart and cruel, the Dragon Queen and the Long Night, and she would finish the circle, porcelain, ivory, steel, flesh again. 

Her flesh somehow betrayed her, however, she was unable to sleep and unable to eat properly, she refused even her lemon cakes and she hadn’t been able to down the Moon Tea, making her nauseous as Master Wolkan watched over her with fear in his eyes, always reminding her not to be intimate with her husband. Yet, he had no reason to fear, for the past few weeks she hadn’t been close to Jon and although she whispered her apologies, Jon only held her tighter in his arms every night and whispered it was alright. 

He understood, he knew, better than anyone, he knew. 

Someone brave, gentle and strong. Father had once promised and Jon was all three, brave enough to still be alive, after all he went through himself, gentle, holding her, supporting her, loving her, strong, enough to keep her spine straight as she too fought her demons. 

And Sansa knew, the North knew too. Before White Harbor, the whispers had spread, reaching all parts of the north as more lordlings, big houses and smallfolk saw the Queen and the Warden close to each other. The songs continued to paint the picture of the Red and White Wolf. The daughters of the North that now followed Sansa whispered, the Lords of the castles she visited could see it, at least the smart ones, the servants in Winterfell heard her, the moans of nightmares had turned into moans of pleasure. The people could see the Queen was happy, and there was a reason for her happiness, although deemed in the past weeks, she was happy. 

She allowed the whispers and sang along with the songs, the people loved him, their former King, now guarding and assisting their Queen. The man who chose the North over the Crown, the woman who brought the Crown Independent. Arya was there to back the perfect picture Sansa was painting for them all. 

Yet, she knew, Bran was basically dying, giving his last efforts to help Jon save them all. It was a beautiful picture, so far, but Sansa knew, it wasn’t just Dreadfort, it was the Dragons, Bran falling, surrounded by Tyrion, expected to lead of another great council. What would that council bring? Stupid men with stupid ideas, annoyances that would have implications for the North, Sansa was certain. 

Jon was back, people knew of his return in the North and the South, the North loved him, his parentage and the dragons were known to the South too, the traders spoke of what was always known, the good and just Jon Snow, turned Jon Stark. Sansa’s stomach wrenched with the idea. Jon Snow, Jon Stark, Aegon Targaryen, the rightful heir to a throne that existed no more, destroyed by the same dragon that Jon had to tame and command, kill. 

‘ _ Someone better,’  _ She had said so herself, she closed her eyes in dread. No one else could see it yet but she did, bright as day, approaching, the end of the picture she was painting. 

_ ‘Don’t fight in the North or the South. Fight every battle, everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something you’ve seen before.’  _

She hated how Littlefinger had forged her to be ready, because she was, she could see it while everyone else couldn’t. She could see the pieces of the chessboard moving, against her, against the picture she was painting. 

_ ‘One day your husband will sit there, and you will sit by his side.’  _ She was the Queen piece of the white army through her choosing and the love of her people, although she had been promised, destined to be of both. Jon was the King piece of both, through birthright and the choosing of the people. 

She hated how Jon had spoken of the dragons as creatures of importance, of intelligence and wisdom. Sansa wondered as she took a deep breath within the carriage if they were so smart, why Drogon listened to his crazed rider so blindly and destroyed the capital. Why Bran couldn’t warg him in time to stop him, why Jon now had to go through so much -along her- for a threat that had devastated King’s Landing. If he didn’t kill them, what would he do with three bleeding dragons under his command? Daenerys was a conqueror, her dragons had been her weapons. But Jon could be a king, fair and just, the dragons could be used as defense, against the east, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, whatever might still hid in the far North, where no one had reached while the Wall evidently melted. Dragons could actually be useful, if Jon could control them. But the North was no place for dragons, and Jon would have to keep them away, maybe even follow them. 

Sansa slammed her hand against the ceiling of the carriage and it stopped abruptly, she shoved the door of it open and emptied her half eaten breakfast on the mud. Her stomach unable to accept the food as her mind was unable to proceed with the idea of Jon leaving South for the councils and the dragons and the Six Kingdoms. 

Jon was dimounting along Arya within moments and approaching her. Concern in his dark eyes as she raised a handkerchief to her lips and inhaled through her nose, nodding her head and realizing she was feeling dizzy despite the fresh breeze. 

‘Come on, get out of it,’ Jon offered for her to make some steps, gather herself. Sansa obliged gripping at his arms as she set foot on the muddy ground, avoiding her vomit on it. Arya was silent by her side, in a rare display of affection, her hand started running soothing circles on her sister’s back and Sansa shut her eyes as she took a deep breath. The rest of the party remained silent, heads bowed at the moment of weakness of their Queen, Master Wolkan approaching and trying to check her pulse before Sansa could take her hand away and wrap it around Jon’s forearm again. 

She had been dismissing her weakness for weeks but for the first time she truly felt unwell and rather worried. Another scenario would be her dying even before Bran and the North would be thrown into turmoil before the South could, maybe with Bran and Sansa gone, Jon could rule over the Seven Kingdoms as he was destined to. Was she really standing in the way before Jon’s stronger claim? Had she and Bran created a separation between kingdoms they had no right to rule over? A Targaryen Father and a Stark Mother, a good king, instead of crippled Northerner in the South and a childless woman in the North. 

‘Sans, are you alright?’ Jon’s words were a gentle whisper, he could see right through her. He could see the dark thoughts flickering in her eyes. She shut them to conceal it all. 

‘Just give me a moment and I’ll be fine.’ she promised and Master Wolkan and Arya were ready to object but Jon only nodded, trusting her words as she held her firmly close to him, worry and affection mingled into his eyes for her. 

‘I need you to be strong, for me, only tonight, tomorrow we’ll be leaving for Deepwoot Motte and before you know it, we’ll be back in Winterfell.’ Jon promised, his voice gentle, Sansa sighed but nodded. 

_ And then we’ll stay there until the dragons reach us, leveling everything in their path if Tyrion and Bran’s plan fails. Or you’ll be successful and you’ll have to either kill them or keep them South, with you there while I’ll be left behind once again in the North.   _ She kept the words to herself, unable to utter them publicly, or privately. She knew of the burden he had upon his shoulders, she knew of his own nightmares, of what he had seen unfolding at King’s Landing, she still remembers the smell of burnt flesh when she reached the capital to retrieve him. Her stomach turned again at the memory and she actually moaned in discomfort before Jon could pull her closer to him until his arms were wrapped around her, the heavy fabrics between them. 

‘I’ll be alright, I promise.’ Sansa tried to soothe him, in her desperate effort to ease the stiffness she could feel in his body, his worry for her. She knew he felt he was failing her, protecting her from the dragons, from enemies, from her past,  from the world. She had done her best to protect him, from the Dragon Queen, from the South, from the world and it only felt in vain now as she was afraid they were part of him, just like Ramsay had tried to be of hers. 

  
  


‘Dreadfort will be no more coming Summer. My decision is to be taken down and apart, its stones and materials shall be used for your housing, and my decision is final.’ Sansa was wearing the cold mask, unyielding, ignoring her turning stomach as she had mounted her horse to enter the court of the ugly fortress in a display of power. The smell of her horse made her dizzy.  ‘I pledge myself over your protection, in hope of this part of the North will be following the Stark rule, my rule.’ Sansa’s words were calculated, rehearsed in her head as she stood outside the castle, the people had gathered around. She would enter the bloody place only for a night, stay in the chambers Lord Bolton used to live, the place Ramsay had been born. 

‘It is my hope I will see an entire town blooming in this part of the North instead of a bunch of mudded shacks around an empty stone castle with no occupants but their ghosts. The Boltons had kept this place backwards, left you without walls around. The Long Night had took its toll on you as most refused to reach Winterfell to be protected like the rest of the people of the North did. I hope to see it develop into a healthy community from its ashes.’ Sansa’s words were met with cheering from people who had reached the place from elsewhere and bows and nods from the few remaining people once loyal to the Boltons who survived the descent of the Wrights. Their miserable state in contrast of the rest of the thriving North was strong enough evidence of who they had to follow to survive, from now on. 

 ‘I hope to see it a trading post before the Wall and between the Last Hearth and Deepwoot Motte. I hope this will be the end of an area traditionally sceptical to my family and the rule of the North by the Starks. An area reborn into trade and prosperity.’ Sansa struggled to keep her voice strong as Jon and Arya remained on horses by her sides as more people cheered for the change towards better times. ‘Therefore the name of the place will be Hopefort,  _ my  _ Hopefort for people prosperous without unworthy houses of tyrants, free of taxes to the Crown for the next year for all of you to be able to start your lives over.’ Sansa added for even the most reluctant to finally join the rest of the people who cheered for the decisions. 

Sansa glanced at Jon, seeking help as the people continued their cheers, he dismounted quickly and reached for her while she dismounted, as gracefully as she could without people noticing her unsteady posture, her knees growing week. Arya was by her side in a heartbeat as the three Starks entered the ugly castle. Torches were lining on the walls, there was no lord to welcome them as Sansa had fed the last one to his own dogs, only the century-old tales of past Starks flanged and hanging from the walls of that same castle. Sansa gasped through every breath at the idea, at the memories, at the person she became, at the satisfaction she felt while the dogs ate him alive. 

The smallfolk would hold a moderate feast with goods brought from around the area and goods brought by the Queen herself from around the North. Sansa wasn’t sure she wanted to join, wasn’t sure she was able to as she felt worse with every step she took further into the birthplace of her nemesis. The three Starks had entered alone, the Queensguard would enter and allow the rest. Sansa had asked to enter only with Jon and Arya, it was overwhelming enough, she wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face before everyone. She needed time to retreat to some chambers. 

‘Jon,’ Sansa whispered, pausing, gripping at his hand, reaching for Arya’s who held her as strongly, she was unable to go further, not sure if it was her will or her body that were giving away first. They halted in the Great Hall, the castle walls naked from any kind of House Banner. Sansa felt the walls closing in around her, she was breathless. ‘Maester Wolkan,’ she could only whisper as Arya brought the hand clutching at hers for Jon to hold and ran to fetch the man requested as Sansa tried her best to stay upright. 

The last thing she saw before the world went black was the terror in Jon’s eyes as he was fully holding her while she fell into oblivion. 

 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it turned more angsty than I expected but enjoyed making it, I think we're going to have developments in the next chapter regarding Sansa's weakness....  
> some dark thoughts took place here but I think it would be typical of Sansa to think of everything happening and the future, she's not stupid. she knows how the world works by now and she fights everywhere, just like she had been taught.  
> I hope you enjoyed the little update, comments are so very appreciated! 💖🎄


	22. A Stupid Girl's Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy to be updating so quickly, thank you very much for all the kudos and comments  
> This is a chapter I wanted to write for a very long time now.   
> Maybe since the day season 8 ended, maybe before that ;)  
> Enjoy

_ Chapter Twenty Two - A Stupid Girl’s Dream _

 

_  Sansa _

 

‘No, no, no,’ Jon’s voice was barely a whisper as he struggled desperately to hold Sansa in his arms. Her body always a comforting weight against him while in their privest moments, now it felt unbearable to keep her from hitting the stone floor as her eyes drifted close, her head falling forward as she collapsed against him. 

Terror gripped at his heart as he worked quickly with the clasp of her cloak, getting her rid of it as to hoist her in his arms. Her grey dress was long but he managed to keep her in his arms through the fabrics. Maester Wolkan was rushing inside the keep of the castle, Arya in tow. The Maester reached the couple and looked at Sansa’s awfully pale face against Jon’s shoulder. Jon knew, he had noticed, but she always dismissed his concerns over the past weeks and insisted it was the lack of sleep and food. He couldn’t help but feel the guilt matching his terror as the Maester tried her pulse and frowned. What kind of man,  _ husband  _ he was if he couldn’t protect her, keep his promise to her, keep her safe, alive. 

‘We should take her to a chamber, I must examine her.’ Maester Wolkan’s voice was worried as Jon started for the closest door leading to the corridor of the bedchambers. He had inspected the castle with the Queensguard before Sansa could give her speech to the crowds outside. He was grateful he had chosen her chambers himself, the closest to the exit of the damn place for them to leave early the next morning. Leaving so early felt a distant possibility now.

Arya was muted as she opened the door for Jon to pass through with Sansa in his arms. He passed through the solar and moved to the private part of the room, lowering her carefully on the bed and reluctantly making a step back for the Maester to open a large pouch with tools and medical herbs at his disposal next to him. 

‘Step aside, or better, get out, please.’ the Maester spoke softly as he took out a strange metallic tool that seemed like a horn -only with both ends cut- and placed it against Sansa’s chest, the wider mouth down, lowering his ear close to the other end and closing his eyes to focus on what he apparently heard.

‘Jon, move,’ Arya whispered as she grasped his arm and pulled, in vain as Jon didn’t even budge, his eyes glued on Sansa’s bent head on the pillow. 

She had to be alright, she had to get better, from whatever she suffered. He should have never pushed her more than she could handle, he should have called off the tour, damn the impressions and the image of the Queen. He should have never included Dreadfort in the Tour schedule to begin with, no matter how hard she had insisted on it being a stop before Deepwood Motte . He should have spared her the agony, no matter how stubborn she had been that she’d be alright. It was only a few months ago she had allowed anyone close to her,  _ him _ , after what she had been through. He should have been more considerate. 

‘It’s my fault,’ his gruff voice had Arya pull at him again. 

‘It’s  _ her  _ fault she’s not been eatin’, it’s her fault she refused Maester Wolkan to examine her sooner. She has survived much worse, lets go out for the poor man to actually find out what is wrong with Sansa.’ Arya’s voice was impatient, cold, trying to be the logical Stark. Jon finally moved a few steps back, listening to the woman he considered an actual sister. Arya had been right to an extent, Sansa had kept dismissing Maester Wolkan’s examination, always saying it was the exhaustion of the Tour. She hadn’t been able to down the herbal tonics he tried to make for her, just like anything else offered to her. Jon sighed as Arya dragged him through the solar,  opened the door again and shoved him and herself outside the chambers. 

‘Go and pick up her cloak from the Great Hall or the people will think we murdered her or somethin’. No one else knows. The Queensguard will allow everyone inside in awhile. We’ll say she had to retire for the night.’ Arya was trying to distract him as his eyes remained on the wood of the closed door, he couldn’t register her words. He finally looked down at her, seeing the young girl -Arya was still a girl in years, Jon could see, around the age of Sansa when she reached Castle Black- she was looking up at him, the fear was stubbornly there, evident in her eyes, he hadn’t seen fear in her eyes in a very long time. 

‘What if…?- Jon stammered and Arya shoved him, her hands against his breastplate, her breathing ragged as she lost composure. 

‘Go and pick up her fuckin’ cloak, Jon, or I swear-’ Arya’s voice was losing the coldness. Jon could see her own terror, her own guilt, her own inability to move an inch more away to retrieve the fucking cloth of her sister. She had spoken of Sansa’s decline that same morning, they both knew something was wrong, and either of them had made it to change things in Sansa’s favor. One slayed the Night King, the other stopped the Dragon Queen, yet Sansa made fools of both by evading aid until it was too late. And how could she not? She had been on her own for a long time, taking every blow no matter the circumstances, her reflex was to endure silently, like she did with Joffrey, like she did with Ramsay, like she had done now, until she bent.  They had both left her, one for the North, the other for the West while Bran was in the South. The guilt of losing her just as they reunited the pack, suffocated both raven-haired Starks. 

‘It’s my fault,’ Jon could only repeat as he finally obeyed, moving the few feet to Sansa’s cloak. He picked it up and brought the neck’s fur close to his face, inhaling her so very familiar scent. 

Sister, cousin, councillor, Queen, wife, family, Sansa was his everything. 

He couldn’t lose his everything. 

  
  
  
  


Sansa groaned in discomfort as the alcohol had her jerking from oblivion to the cold chamber, the bed beneath her was unfamiliar but she had been used to the sensation since the start of the tour. What she hadn’t been used to was the Maester picking up his stuff into the pouch after smiling at her, retrieving the cloth with the strong concoction that had jerked her awake. 

‘My Queen,’ Wolkan had been a quiet man, merciful through her days with Ramsay. For a dreadful moment, Sansa wondered, how many had he healed after Ramsay’s tortures in that same place. Had Theon found some relief from the pain? Had Ramsay allowed it? Sansa doubted it, the thought made her stomach turn. She groaned again at the thoughts, at the coldness of the room, at the emptiness of her stomach that made it groan loudly after it stopped turning. ‘You had to lay unconscious for me to examine you,’ Maester Wolkan chastified gently.

‘Something’s wrong with me, isn’t it?’ Sansa countered his comment. There was no use in avoiding the truth. She had refused examination, stubbornness, fear of the truth,  she didn’t care to put a name to her attitude, all she knew was that she had to do better. She was a Queen, the North depended on her. She only hoped she had the time to do better. Maester Wolkan closed the pouch and in a rare moment of acting out of duty, he half sat on the mattress close to her and allowed himself to pat the back of her hand that rested on the bed. 

‘Your Grace,’ the Maester spoke quietly, Sansa knew he’d be at her father’s age, if her father had survived. ‘I have been supplying you with Moon Tea ever since you married that sad excuse of a man. I made sure the scars would fade once he was finally dealt with.’ the man spoke and Sansa nodded. She knew the risk he had taken by saving the daughter of a fallen enemy of the Boltons.‘I have been loyal to you since you set foot back in Winterfell, still disguised as a bastard, revealed as Sansa Stark. I deeply respect you and wanted to talk with you first, as whatever concerns you is not just personal, but a state matter and now, you’re a Queen, a Queen Regent for that matter.’ his words were calm, his voice easy, fatherly words of an older man to a young woman, yet Sansa frowned. Something was going on.

‘Please, tell me what’s wrong,’ Sansa’s voice was a whisper as she sat up, she wanted to take the news instantly, put them into the mix of everything that went through her head. 

‘I examined you carefully and although weak and tired, you’re healthy. I found nothing out of the ordinary for a woman of your age.’ The Maester’s words didn’t allow relief to sweep over Sansa as she could see there was more. 

‘But…?’ she urged, showing his words gave no peace of mind. He nodded with a small smile. 

‘But,  I have been recording everything concerning your health, your bleeding, your doses of Moon Tea...I came to realise there hasn’t been bleeding for more than two moons now, my Queen…’ Wolkan’s voice was gentle, making Sansa try to remember when she bled last, realising he was right, they were still on their way to White Harbor. ‘And I believe you took the last dose of Moon Tea I brewed for you, while at White Harbor… That was about two and a half Moon turns ago.’ the Maester added and Sansa’s eyes slowly widened, her hand flying to her mouth, she suddenly felt dizzy again, out of breath, her stomach, empty and turning suddenly felt like dropping. 

White Harbor, the feast, Jon’s chambers, they had been drunk, the moon tea had been in her chambers, concealed as chamomile. They had made love at least twice or thrice that night… and the next morning… Sansa groaned as the hand from her lips moved to cover her entire face, eyes shut as the realisation swept over her. She hadn’t been intimate with Jon after that for at least a week, not consuming Moon Tea as there hadn’t been a reason to do so. Arya was always there, sharing tales, enjoying their company until dawn. Then more duties and councils had followed, until they left for Ramsgate. And even there, they had been intimate at least twice without the tea because it simply happened when the dead of the night allowed it, Sansa couldn’t remember when she lost count of drinking the damn thing. While at Winterfell, it had been easy to keep a routine, but outside of it, on the road, she had lost track, she had enjoyed Jon in the rare moments he had achieved to find her on her own, after he returned from the godswoods of each stop, and she had been willing and happy to carry his mind away as the shadows of his training and burden on his shoulders had dragged him down. Before they knew it,  they were reaching Dreadfort and Sansa was more and more tired, and more and more depressed reaching the birthplace of her second husband, matching the mood of her third. They had been both exhausted and frustrated, and they had found solace and bliss only in each other, without realising there would be consequences. She hadn’t taken Moon Tea in more than two full moons. She had taken it with consistently while in Ramsay’s clutches, out of desperation of the result if she didn’t. But with Jon, she had forgotten herself, layers of pain, fear and agony had fallen, replaced with love, bliss and hope for her to thrive in. But the union of man and woman saw no emotion, she had been careless. She had postponed it herself, when Jon had asked her, they had agreed to wait. 

From deep within her mind, the darkest corners of it, Cersei’s voice manifested, attempting at poisoning the moment of truth. 

_ “The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children; on that front a mother has no choice” _

‘I…’ Sansa tried, chasing away one of the greatest lessons she had been taught, or rather obviously hadn’t as her hand fell from her face, moving southern, touching below her bellybutton, resting there. ‘I’m with child.’ Sansa whispered and the Maester gave a small smile and nodded as Sansa whimpered, she couldn’t help the tears filling her eyes. That changed  _ everything _ , it was too soon, her rule was still fragile, Jon had the dragons to deal with,  nobody but a handful of people knew of the marriage, and now a child of hers and Jon’s, of the North.

_ Of the South, as well.  _ A whispered voice very much like Littlefinger’s whispered inside her mind as she remembered everything she had thought inside the carriage about Jon and herself, about the thriving North and the declining South, about the dragons and the kingdoms. The stupid girl’s dreams were coming true, while the Queen’s duties and plans fell apart. 

‘A babe,’ Sansa whispered again and looked down, her stomach was still flat, but it explained it all. The weakness, the nausea, the inability to eat or sleep. Of course it was the Dreadfort and the exhaustion and the duties and the Tour as well, but it was also the most natural thing in the world when two people lay together, when wife and husband became one. 

The dragons, their threat, Bran in the South, the North had to learn of her and Jon, of the next Stark before she could start showing. Priorities had changed, she had to be compelling, smart, effective. Her truths and lies had to be used as an armor. She had to gain allies before they could turn to enemies, before they could come for the child of Sansa Stark and Aegon Targaryen, her and Jon’s baby. 

‘Jon needs to know,’ Sansa whispered, pushing away all the thoughts and plans and schemes and battles she had to fight, the other half of that child had to learn of its existence within her. ‘Does he know?’ Sansa asked, remembering the terror in his eyes as she was fainting in his arms. Maester Wolkan shook his head and stood. 

‘I had to inform you before anyone else, your Grace.’ Wolkan explained and Sansa smiled gently and nodded her thanks. Wolkan knew of what she had been through because of Ramsay, he respected her will and her body, her chance at a choice on it. 

‘Thank you, for everything, Maester Wolkan,’ Sansa offered, grateful at the white haired man who nodded and bowed. ‘As far as you could know, is everything alright with the child?’ Sansa tried to put her thoughts and words in order, concern rising over the little life within her, perspective, her priorities had changed indeed. 

‘So far, so good, my Queen. I’ll brew the right potions to fight the dizziness, maybe some milk of the poppy for you to sleep at night. You need to rest, you need to eat and drink, nurishment is critical for the child. Once we’re back in Winterfell, we’ll give summons for the best midwives in the North. Once you’re ready to announce the news. Otherwise, we could swear one to secrecy, but we’ll need one for sure, my knowledge on the matter has its limits and the labor in itself will be something I can’t help very much with.’ His words made it all the more real as Sansa could only nod at his practical words. 

The pregnancy,  _ she was pregnant _ , a midwife, or a hoard of them, the labour, its dangers, the baby. By the Gods, old and new, all this was overwhelming and she had no older woman around her to guide and soothe her, she was the older woman of the family now. Her Lady Mother would have been so happy, Sansa thought longingly, only if she didn’t know of the father, the rest of thought had Sansa pushing the longing away. She was better off without an older woman around her. Catelyn Stark would have been appalled, while Cersei Lannister would have roared drunken laughter at Sansa’s inability to control her life because of love. 

‘I need Jon,’ Sansa could only croak the request as she chased the ghosts away. She let her legs hang from the bed, setting her feet on the ground. Maester Wolkan bowed again. ‘Please inform my sister but occupy her for a few moments, spare me some time with my husband.’ Sansa added and the Maester nodded again. 

‘Of course, your Grace.’ the Maester only replied as he picked up his pouch and moved towards the door of the chambers. Sansa remained silent behind, needing the small pause until he reached the door and opened it, having Jon and Arya almost jump at him. She could hear their voices through the solar. Jon looked over the maester’s shoulder, his eyes locking with Sansa’s as Arya was demanding to know the truth, glaring daggers at the poor man. 

‘The Queen requested the Warden’s presence. But I am to inform you, Lady Arya.’ the Maester was saying as he pulled Jon with surprising force into the room, shutting the door behind him as Arya was starting to complain about the title of the Lady that she received as an insult. Her voice muffled by the closed door.

The room fell silent as Jon moved through the solar and paused inside the bedchamber, frozen in place while Sansa remained seated on the bed. Their eyes locked as fear mingled with worry, concern and insecurity. 

‘I beg you,’ Jon whispered, his shoulders slumped, face defeated. He looked nothing like the brave warrior or the dragon rider she had seen in the Battle for the Dawn. He reminded her of the day they parted at King’s Landing, him for the Wall and she for the North. She ached to change the pain in his eyes, but she also hoped he wouldn’t be more pained once he knew the truth. ‘Tell me he knows what’s going on… tell me it’s nothing wrong.’ Jon pleaded as he approached her, he halted less than a foot from her as she stood, grateful the dizziness embed, only the hunger remained. She reached for his hand in hers, Jon allowed her, his eyes fearfully searching hers. 

‘It could never be wrong,’ Sansa whispered as she angled his arm carefully for his palm to touch her lower belly over her dress, her hands covering his. ‘Not between us,’ Sansa added, trying to persuade both, he had been raised a bastard, she had been defiled, now they were called upon to be something more than themselves, their survival came second, and they were both survivors. Jon remained to look at her, still oblivious, Sansa took courage at the love battling the fear in his eyes. ‘Jon-I...We neglected the Moon Tea…’ Sansa’s voice was barely heard, there was a moment of silence hanging between them before Jon’s eyes went wide, dropping finally on their joined hands between their bodies, on her belly. His head snapping back up at her, desperate for confirmation.

‘I’m with child,’ Sansa’s voice was quiet but, clear. 

He remained to look at her for a few moments, her words followed by his silence as he struggled to comprehend the information. The Moon Tea, the symptoms he knew women suffered when pregnant. She wasn’t ill, she wasn’t  _ dying _ , she wasn’t going anywhere. After all the shit they went through, after Joffrey and Ramsay, after Ygritte and Daenerys and the falls all these brought upon Sansa and himself before they could end up dead, she wasn’t to follow them by some mysterious disease, like he hadn’t followed when stabbed in the chest, after battles and gore, blood and war. She had been a beautiful picture with that boy in her arms, back in Winterfell, soon she’d be cuddling theirs. A babe, inside her, his child,  _ theirs _ . 

 

The robust man or the tall woman.

 

‘Please, say something,’ Sansa whispered, he could see the warmth battling the insecurity and the fear of his reaction, in her eyes. He couldn’t let these win as he finally released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. 

He closed the gap between them and without taking his hand away from her belly, Jon fell on his knees before Sansa.  For the first time, actually bending the knee, before his right Queen. No words, no pacifying words of political games, no pretending. He knelt before his Queen wife, his she-wolf, his face resting above their hands until he wrapped his own around her lithe body. Her own hands wrapping around his shoulders and head, caressing his curls with her fingers as he brushed his lips on the soft flesh of her belly, not realising his tears were staining the fabric of her dress. 

‘Sansa…’ he whispered as he looked up at her, she was looking down, smiling, her braid a fiery path between their faces. He smiled up at her before he could kiss her body again. Soon she would be round and heavy with their babe,  _ a babe _ , he would be a father, against oaths and odds and dragons and wars. He was to father a child, Sansa’s child. 

‘Jon…’ they both understood, the fear, the change, the need, the love, the joy. 

The door slammed open with Arya destroying the moment between the couple, bursting in the chambers as she looked wildly at her sister and cousin. Sansa looked at Arya as Jon stood next to his wife, his arm wrapping around Sansa’s waist protectively as she leaned against him, her own arm around his back. 

‘I’m going to be the Sole Protector of the Heirs.’ Arya half asked, half announced, requesting confirmation from the source. Sansa nodded her head as Jon smiled at her. Arya approached the other two Starks, surprising both as she shoved at Jon for the second time that night, only this time, gentler, with a smile on her face, like Robb or Theon would have done. 

‘It is your fault indeed,’ Arya accused happily before she could glance at Sansa, turning and wrapping her arms around her. Sansa embraced her little sister with a smile on her lips as Arya snuggled close to her, something very much like a whimper escaping Arya’s lips. Maybe it was the pregnancy or simply the sense of belonging that built new tears in Sansa’s eyes as she tightened her arms around her sister.  

‘I’m going to rip out the eyes of any fucker who might threaten my nephew or niece.’ Arya promised affectionately. 

‘Arya!’ Sansa could only exclaim through a tearful chuckle that had the three Starks laugh as both Arya and Sansa opened one arm each for Jon to join them in the family embrace. 

The pack wouldn’t simply survive, it would thrive. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but have Arya bursting in and "destroying" the moment but she just had to!  
> All of you were right of course, Sansa's with child and I needed to explore all the feelings she and Jon would have, although it was mostly Sansa split between emotional and political, some lessons like the ones of Cersei's have taken deep root in her, while Jon was more emotion and tender heart over the baby  
> JONSA BABY <3


	23. A Time for Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!!  
> This chapter was one I love making as we learn of Ghost's absence

Chapter 23 A Time for Wolves

  
  


_ The remains of the ancient volcano was standing imposing down below, its cladera collapsed within itself, the ruins of Old Valyria remained to witness the dragons flying above. Fire made flesh, flesh made of fire.   _

_ Jon could see his large, black wings flapping at his sides as the smaller dragons screeched, roaming the skies free closeby. He ducked his long neck and his body followed as he flew downward, towards the sea, only to soon angle his entire body, soaring just above the waves of the ocean. His nostrils allowed in the salty, humid water, along the smoke and the smell of fire. _

_ He snapped his head at the smaller dragons again, they were still too afraid to mimic him. Too afraid of water. Still too young to make the travel across the sea, to the west, the sea he had crossed once towards foreign lands and then back again to the place of his birth.  _

_ West, where their presence sang to them, like it had sang to himself, Viserion and Rheagal the first time, still from within their eggs, when Mysha had held them in her hands.  _

_ In the North, where the wind smelled of snow and mud and home, they were tiny, inside a hole the mother had dug. Jon could see around him, the forest was thick, familiar places, familiar feelings of hunger and need, his mouth tasted still with the small rabbit he had killed, he had left the elk for her, she was still nursing, she needed it more than himself. The direwolf by his side snarled, rising from her nap, her pups, his too, following, they were large enough, strong enough to be on their own. She was ready to leave again.  _

_ Jon looked at the other beast, his paws bringing him closer to the pups. Nymeria, she was ready to go while he felt the call to go back, she had done her duty. She was free, untamed, she snarled at him to stay back. He did, while the pups ran towards him. She was soon running away. _

_ Instinct kicking in, his little ones had to survive, they had to be claimed. He howled in the night.  _

Jon’s eyes snapped open as he lay on the uncomfortable cot within his tent, it was dark in and out of it as he sat up and rubbed his face. It was one of the nights he couldn’t be with Sansa. Too many people would notice around the camp they had set to their road to Deepwood Motte, too many eyes would see had they been together in one tent. It was one of the nights he tried what Bran taught him, on his own, yet his intention was to reach the dragon, he was still afraid when he warged. Sansa had promised she’d find a way for everything to be set in order for them while he should only focus on the beasts. Their secret would soon be showing, their union and its fruit was already inside her womb. Next day, they’d reach their final stop of the tour and then they’d finally be able to go back to their base, see how to deal with each issue from the safety of their home. He was exhausted, he longed for Winterfell, for Sansa and himself in their chambers, for her body against his, above and beneath. 

He groaned the moment the howl was heard again, snapping him out of his thoughts, making him realise what had actually woken him. He stood, dressed and left his tent quickly. On his way out, checking the Queen’s tent next to his and seeing light flickering from inside. Arya was with her, Sansa was safe, and probably uneasy with nausea again. He would go to the forest, where he knew he was needed and then he’d go to her, make sure she wasn’t exhausting herself over paperwork while she should be resting. 

  
  
  


The small piece of parchment was in Arya’s hands. Brienne’s words were simple, honest, a secret more to be added in the long list. Their baby brother, of whatever Bran currently had turned into, was withering, from what Jon had confessed, Bran was withering fast. 

‘We must do something about it.’ Arya whispered as Sansa tried to down the herbal tea that was to halt her nausea, al it did so far was magnify her need to puke, its sweet taste sickening like bile. Maester Wolkan had promised it was the best for her condition. She tried to take a deep breath through her nostrils, unable to nod her head. She’d throw up for sure if she did. She closed her eyes for a moment, head thrown back, hand tightly holding her abdomen, she would swear she’d felt a hard little bump already there.

‘We must do so many things.’ Sansa finally whispered the words, giving a sign she was listening to her sister, glancing at her, Arya was looking back at her in concern. ‘I’ll be alright.’ she promised. They both turned their heads as they heard the howl of a wolf in the distance. Sansa’s eyes turning wide, it was either her worry over Ghost or she’d swear she recognized the howling as his. She wondered if Jon heard it from his own tent or if he was too exhausted to wake. 

He was training twice as hard ever since Dreadfort, turned Hopefort now. The news of their babe there had been another reason for the change of name of that place, hope for them, for the future.  Coming day had brought them to reality, the plans they had to forge themselves into different shapes. The truths they had to bring out and the the lies they had to hide were many, able to  bring many winters in their life. 

‘We must arrange a good match for Wynafryd Manderly, as soon as possible.’ Sansa finally spoke, tearing her attention away from the second howling of the beast out there. ‘Lord Manderly wanted her to marry Jon. I even promised I’d facilitate the wedding.’ Sansa was exasperated with herself, at the time, it had been fun, seemingly harmless, postponing the suitors for her, flocking the willing ladies around her instead of around Jon. Now she realized she had to make a match to make up to the richest Lord in the North, if she wished to have his support. 

‘I know,’ Arya replied, Sansa nodded her head, reminding herself Arya had been there, disguised as a boy. Same boy that had given her a rose on her way to the New Castle, she realised with eyes closed. She wished she could roll her eyes but more nausea would come. However, she glanced at her sister as Arya finally crumpled the parchment in her hands and looked at Sansa’s exhausted face. 

‘What about her becoming the Lady of the Vale? That would spare you from Robyn’s attempts, and would spare him the humiliation of being turned down once again when he comes to propose to you while your womb is full with the child of another man.’ Arya’s words had Sansa’s eyes widening, that was actually a brilliant idea, one she hadn’t thought of. She needed Arya, she needed her to be her mind, her eyes and ears while she battled her own body to accommodate her child. 

‘For how long you’ve been around, exactly?’ she could only ask, a smile on her lips as Arya returned it as a smirk.  

‘Long enough,’ She only replied and Sansa shookher head. Quiet as a whisper, fast, smart, like a spider. 

‘I need a Master of Whisperers.’ Sansa pointed out, remembering Lord Varys. 

‘You have him, only is a she.’ Arya accepted the position, and it was simple as that. ‘You also have a sworn shield again.’ Arya added and Sansa smiled at the promise Arya had given her while in Hopefort. She was so glad to have her sister back, that year had been so lonely. 

‘Thank you, Arya…’ Sansa whispered honestly, her voice gentle, Arya waved her hand, her eyes looking downward to break the tender moment among sisters. The young queen could see right through her sister but decided to drop the moment, the Starks always seemed hard to crack and show emotion, maybe with the exception of Lyanna and Robb Stark, who acted upon their feelings and both lost their lives for it. Sansa took a deep breath, her mood changing like the Winter wind, from happy to sad in the blink of an eye. 

‘We must contact Lord Royce about the arrangement.’ Sansa replied, her voice breaking and Arya only nodded this time, noticing her sister’s quick movement to gather her tears. 

‘We’re liking it or not, a highborn lady as Manderly and Robyn, if married would unite the border separating the South from the North….’ Arya’s words were calm, yet Sansa detected the meaning. 

‘I’m not dragging the North behind the South…. I’m bending the South to the North.’ Sansa admitted to her sister. Her eyes closing once again as her stomach turned with unease. During the tour, she had seen the progress made around her land. Not all of it had been benefited by the channels dug to water the fields, it had been frozen for so long. Not all corps had survived, mother nature would need time to be fertile again, the snow and the winter had worked like her own moon tea and now she struggled to give fruits. 

‘I can’t have a Northern famine while the South, even if devastated by wars, is at least fertile. I can’t leave the North hanging in the balance…’ Sansa whispered. ‘Not now, not ever,’ she added as she glanced at her sister, Arya sighed and nodded. They would need corps, more corps to plant again, more corps to eat. They would need money to preserve the infrastructure she struggled to create, they would need safe roads out of the North for the trade to go on, along ships to go and return from White Harbor, they would need Robyn and Wynafryd happily married to achieve all that. 

‘You were always the key to the North,’ Arya could only whisper back, they both knew of the burden Sansa had taken upon herself back in that dragonpit. She was paving the way no one else had, many Stark men had fought to reach the path, she was clearing it for the generations to walk on. 

‘When I gained our Independence, you were there,’ Sansa whispered, Arya remained silent. ‘That Great Council had been a stupid idea,’ Sansa went on. ‘I did it out of desperation at Tyrion’s stupid idea of Bran becoming King, our crippled, barren brother. After the barren Mad Queen, before Cersei the Evil, Tommen the Weak and Joffrey the Bastard. All these after Robert the Drunk… the Mad King before him…’ Sansa counted all the tyrants of Westeros, small and big.  

‘Despite its many misfortunes, I had hoped the South would somehow recover, I hoped it would never turn its eyes towards the North, ever again. Thinking about it now, I’m not sure why I hoped such thing. I’ve fought so hard for the past year and a half. I have been around the people. I have taken risks with the Lords, I tried so hard to restore Winterfell and build from the ruins without throwing the North into debt. I fought every battle to pass laws over property, bastardy, trade and taxes. Bran has been withering away, helping Jon, searching for Drogon before that, leaving people like Tyrion and Bronn to rule on his behalf…A kingdom devastated by wars and in debt to the Iron Bank, destroyed by Cersei’s tactics and Daenerys’ madness.’ Sansa sounded exhausted, spent, her hands resting on her lap, covering her child within her belly. 

_ ‘What if there is someone else, someone better,’  _ her own words came  to haunt her more frequently in the past weeks. She never wanted Jon to go South, but before the alternative of Daenerys Stormborn, she was willing to sacrifice what she wanted for the good of the people, of the South and the North, and Jon would have been good indeed. Her father had said your people are like your children, you have to take care of them. Many called her Sansa the Mother, because she gathered the Bastards and Orphans of the North under her protection. Cersei’s words crept in her mind once more, poison gathering in her throat. 

_ ‘The more people you love, the weaker you become.’ _ she had been right, and she had buried all three of her children, buried herself in the foundation of the Red Keep with one more inside her. Tyrion had quietly confessed during the small funeral he had arranged for Cersei and Jamie. Sansa had attended while in the capital along Brienne and Arya. She had wanted to make sure Cersei was nothing but a ghost, that had lessened the nightmares indeed. Sansa’s hand pressed harder on her almost flat stomach, covering the little one in there, her back shivering. 

‘You’re a fool to think your child wouldn’t be part of all this, with Jon as the father or not.’ Arya’s words had her look at the youngest female Stark. Fighting the hurt at the honesty of her sister, appreciating the reality thrown at her however. Arya was looking at Sansa’s hand on her belly, a mixture of protectiveness and worry in her dark orbs. ‘You’re Sansa Stark, a woman ruling the North for the first time in history.’ Arya spoke the facts. ‘Your child would have to deal with the Southern councils of the future, the results of them, she or he will have to deal with the balance between independence and isolation of the North…’ Arya added and Sansa sighed. ‘Adding Jon being the father, the babe in you is basically the rightful heir or heiress for both kingdoms, we like it or not.  Sooner or later, the Councils will collapse, or simply vote for your child to rule over the South, by vote granted through birthright stemming from Jon, he or she will rule the North, by birthright from you.’ Arya spoke the words Sansa hated to even ponder yet they kept on invading her mind. 

‘I’m going to throw up,’ she could only whisper, making Arya chuckle, breaking the tensed conversation. She would pave the path, through the snow of the North and the ruins of the South, with Jon by her side, with an iron fist, if she had to, for her child to find a peaceful rule. She would find a way to balance over a land unstable for hundreds of years. 

At the slightest of ruffles from outside the tent, Arya was briezing to her feet and in front of Sansa, covering her, Needle in hand before Sansa could even stand on her feet, reaching for her own dagger. She had promised herself she’d have it even closer to her since Hopefort. She needed to protect herself, the life within her body.

There was another ruffle and Arya’s hand shot back, pushing Sansa slightly at full cover, a thing hard to do given how taller Sansa was from her sister. Both women relaxed as the third shuffle at the entrance of the tent revealed Jon, his cloak off his shoulders and in his arms made like a pouch. 

‘Ghost!’ Sansa exclaimed as her eyes moved from her husband to his direwolf who trotted inside the place and rushed close to them.

Arya and Sansa who lowered their weapons and petted the direwolf who stood before Arya but sniffed Sansa, his snout close to her belly, excited tail hitting Arya as Sansa hugged the direwolf’s massive head. 

‘You scared us, you scared Sansa!’ Arya was accusing and Jon couldn’t help but smile at Arya’s overprotectiveness. 

‘I’m sorry, I just…’ Jon was saying as both women approached him as he opened his cloak on the ground, Sansa gasped as she knelt before the small pile of fur and whimpers. Ghost licked her face as Arya remained shocked to look at Jon. ‘I think that’s why he was away…. I think he mated with Nymeria.’ Jon explained, seeing Arya’s eyes watering at the mention of her direwolf, if Nymeria was ever hers, a free spirit, out there. 

Inside the heavy fabric there were five pups. They were tiny, dark fur, spots of red here and there but mostly dark grey, one completely black, all of them sniffing around as Sansa picked them up one by one, burying her face in the soft bellies. 

‘They’re so sweet!’ she couldn’t help but coo at the little pups, making Arya and Jon stifle their smiles. Sansa felt her eyes filling with tears suddenly, they had no mother, only Ghost remained. ‘We’ll have them with us in Winterfell.’ Sansa announced as she held the one more similar to Lady close to her face, the soft fur and tiny tongue on her cheek as the pup licked her face. 

‘As the Queen commands,’ Arya smiled at her sister while Jon lowered his body close to Sansa. 

‘Their names?’ he asked and Sansa smiled at him, stealing a kiss from his lips, he could see she was grateful for them. 

‘Shadow, Nyx, Coal, Ion and Spring.’ Sansa announced easily as she raised each and checked if it was a boy or a girl, three boys and two girls. 

‘You want one as your own?’ Jon asked softly and Sansa beamed at him.

‘All of them are my own,’ she said happily, a childish greed in her voice, Jon could only laugh and nod as he brought her closer for a kiss on the forehead. There had been direwolf pups before, seperated and shorted out, and except Ghost and Nymeria, met with awful fates each. These den would surround the remaining of the Starks as the Wolves had come again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot of jonsa in this chap but I needed jon warging the dragons and by accident Ghost, finding him, I never understood why we started with the direwolves in the show being so important only to reduce them to mere lapdogs by the middle of the series.... but come to think of it, they even used the dragons like stupid flying reptiles we never explored the nature of  
> the sansa arya moments were important to me, arya will be there for sansa and is there anything sweeter? i loved them in s8, together in the north backing each other, arya will be sansa's spy and her shield, she will do anything for the pack and sansa who is carrying the next generation of it, we also had pol!sansa, and a bit of pol!arya because lets remember, they were both close to people like cersei and tywin, they have taken valuable lessons, plus we have direwolf pups!!!!! I hope you all liked it, comments are new year love!


	24. She Prayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the comments, kudos and reading, I'm so happy people enjoy my work, this story is made from me (usually in the middle of the night) only because I need these characters to get what they deserve and they deserve better <3 your kind words work as motivation for quicker updates from me, especially now that I know where I want to go with this up to the very end.   
> this chapter came out a bit differently from what I had expected but I enjoyed making it immensely.   
> thank you

_ Chapter Twenty Four - She Prayed _

 

The last time Jon and Sansa had marched through the gates of Deewood Motte, they had been greeted by the shadow of a castle, terrible silence around its walls, the place in ruins as Robett Glover had rejected their request of help for the Battle for the Bastards. Now, as they marched on their horses, Sansa in the middle, her crown on her head, Jon right beside her, Arya on the other side, the atmosphere was completely reversed. The people gathered outside, around and within the walls that surrounded the castle were cheering for the Starks, throwing winter flower petals at their path. The Queen had finally reached the final stop of her tour and this was the last chance for anyone who wished to see the young ruler. 

Lord Glover waited for them, a small smile on his face as his wife and remaining child, his daughter, bowed at the Queen in the North. He had refused to help the King in the North before the Great War, he had refused Jon after he bent the knee to the Dragon Queen, his son, Gawen however had left to fight at King’s Landing, and met a terrible fate. Yet, Lord Glover had pledged his life and loyalty to Sansa, when she came back with the Northern Crown on her head. 

Jon had faced the man during Sansa’s councils, he knew of the respect he held for his Queen wife, he knew he’d be restless the moment he’d learn Sansa had been married for months now, under secrecy. The Lord’s loyalty swayed when he didn’t like how things unfolded concerning Stark ethics. He’d need a shock to keep his aliagence with them. 

Jon and Arya dismounted first, Arya holding Sansa’s horse as Jon helped her to get off the it. She wasn’t showing yet but the thick fur kept her body concealed anyway, her nausea always a reason to be helped after riding her mare. Yet, the gesture was taken as if the Warden simply wanted to aid the Queen out of courtesy. Ghost approached them slowly, passing through the people and the Queensguard without interruption.

‘Your Grace,’ Lord Glover bowed deeply, his wife Sybelle and daughter Erena mimicking their patriarch. Sansa smiled and bowed her head as the man shook her hand firmly. He was a rough Northerner, he’d never kiss her hand, and he’d never allow his own daughter to bow and kiss his own hand. Sansa liked that, despite it all, he was more honest than Lord Manderly and his placating ways or Lord Cedwin and his efforts to seem sweet. 

‘Lord Glover,’ Sansa acknowledged and the man gestured at his family. Sansa nodded her head, she knew the houses of her land, by name or word, but with the Glovers, she had dined with little Erena and danced with Gawen, received gifts from Lady Sybelle when the Glovers visited her lord father at Winterfell.

‘Your Grace’s visit is a blessing indeed.’ Lady Sybelle said gently and Sansa glanced at Lord Glover, his face had softened just a fraction. 

‘We had word from the Maester this morning, Lady Sybelle is with child,’ the man said quietly, a smile escaping his lips, making Sansa’s smile turn wide. 

‘This is amazing news, congratulations.’ Sansa was happy for the continuation of his line, although through her Act of Succession, Erena could have also continued it. Sansa vaguely remembered Lord Glover’s scowl while Jon had held the parchment for her to sign the Act. Sansa felt happy his mind would be occupied with the pregnancy of his own wife when the news about the Queen’s would reach his ears. 

‘The news of the direwolf pups reached us before you could.’ Lord Glover offered as he led the Starks within the keep of the castle. Erena smiling at Ghost who tailed Jon and Sansa, his snout pressing within the furs close to her middle. Jon pushed the wolf’s head away, glaring at him.

‘It is an amazing omen for Sansa’s rule, don’t you agree?’ Arya asked and Glover nodded as he couldn’t actually deny it. 

The proposal for Lord Manderly’s daughter to Robyn Arryn had left that morning for the Vale. Along news of the direwolf pups. Arya had made sure by talking to the right people, under the right disguise, to let the news catch fire. 

The North was already ecstatic about Sansa having toured around it. Trade at White Harbor and roads from and to it, benefiting everyone. Fair or no taxation for the areas most affected. The image of a powerful young Queen, compassionate and ready to take care of the weak, like the Bastards and the Orphans after a savaged by war, land. The Northerners loved their Queen, their loyalty only fueled by the omens of the Warden and the Night King Slayer around her, along direwolf pups and happiness on her face. She had been already called Sansa the Loved, the Mother of the North, titles like Lady Bolton, the Ice Queen and the Lannister fading as the songs of her fair reign and happiness pressed onto the memories of the people. 

‘I wish my son would be here, to join your Queensguard,’ Glover expressed with sadness, his wife and daughter lowering their heads. 

‘He will, once he’s born, raised and strong,’ Jon offered the hope he knew the man needed. Sansa nodded, both at the prospect and Jon’s pacifying words. He had been political, he knew of people’s needs and desires and acted upon them.. 

‘Aye, and it will be an honor,’ Glover announced happily to Jon who smiled and nodded. 

‘The Godswood is ready, your Grace, as you requested, I looked to it to be perfect, for the people to return to the right faith again.’ Lady Sybelle spoke next to her husband as the small group of people with the direwolf reached the Great Hall, followed by the Queensguard. They would soon be dismissed for the chambers assorted for them, before the feast that evening. ‘The chamber chosen for you has a view to it, we hope you’ll like it.’ Lady Sybelle added and Sansa smiled. 

‘Thank you, my lady, I’m very pleased.’ Sansa replied as Jon nodded. He wouldn’t be retiring, he had spent a restless night, seeing through Drogon, he needed to go. 

The Starks were escorted to their chambers, Arya and Sansa entering while Jon excused himself, “I’d like to visit the Godswood, pray,” he excused himself, Lord Glover seemed surprised at the religiousness of Jon but commented nothing as he and his family left, allowing the Stark Ladies inside the room while Jon left for outside. 

Sansa and Arya took off their cloaks. Sansa sighed as she reached for the window, looking at the beautiful little godswood erected in the back of the castle, the echoes of the activity on the front fades a bit. She watched as Jon approached the weirdwood after awhile, his dark cloak and furs making him stand out in the greenery and the red leaves of the main tree as he stood before it, not kneeling anymore, able to control his body while in trance. 

‘Something happened last night, after the pups, I think. He refused to tell me this morning while we broke fast.’ Sansa’s words were followed by a sigh as she clasped her hands on her front. Arya too, looked down at the weirdwood, where Jon was. ‘He seemed exhausted, but also alarmed, yet he only said he was fine.’ Sansa added and Arya nodded as she looked at her sister. 

‘You want me to make him talk?’ she asked threateningly and Sansa couldn’t help but give a sad chuckle, shaking her head, this time looking over the horizon and the setting sun outside. She knew exactly what she wanted. 

‘I… I want you to leak the secret, discreetly, about me and him getting closer, and I want him to get rid of the dragons.  I want the scorpions built across the North, maybe the South too, from Dorne to the Neck and from the Iron Islands to Storm’s End. He’s been speaking about them as if they are sacred, wise, creatures that should be spared.’ Sansa sighed again. 

‘They are sacred…’ Arya replied the truth, Sansa winced at it, deciding to ignore it, just like she had ignored their need of them back in Winterfell, right before Jon sworn them to secrecy and Bran told them the truth. ‘Wise and allowed to be spared I don’t know, but why don’t you try to understand why he changed his view on them? There must be a reason.’ Arya tried and Sansa shook her head again. 

‘He says they were mistreated by the Targaryens over the centuries. He says Bran has been showing him what they have been through only because people made them act in certain ways…’ Sansa’s words were curt, annoyed, she couldn’t feel for massive reptiles, her compassion didn’t reach such heights. ‘And Jon is feeling for them!’ Sansa was exasperated, Arya sighed this time. ‘Most of the time, I don’t understand if Bran works in our favor or not.’ Sansa added, shaking her head. ‘I feel like everyone is my friend and everyone is my enemy.’ Sansa added bitterly, remembering Littlefinger, she rubbed her slightly hardened belly, wondering if it grew too fast every day or if she indeed needed a woman to guide her through the unmapped waters of pregnancy. 

‘We gathered the pack, only for Bran to be showing him the dragon way through visions and I agreed to it like a fool, ordering for weirdwoods to be built across the North for Bran to manipulate Jon in favour of the dragons…’ Sansa felt the words coming out at last, their bitterness. ‘Bran should have been able to stop Drogon, he’s the Three Eyed Raven, is he not? He should have warged Drogon when the bloody beast killed thousands-’ Sansa’s bitterness grew, chocking the rest of the words in her throat. 

‘Bran’s not a Targaryen, Sans.’ Arya tried quietly, causing Sansa to click her tongue, only more bile building in her throat.  _ But Jon is.  _ The words hang in the air unspoken, heaving on Sansa’s chest. She shook her head again and took a deep breath to calm herself as she looked down at her cousin and husband. Jon was heaving breaths as he held onto the young tree, suffering over whatever he was trying to see or do. Sansa moved from the window, not bothering to take her cloak or explain to Arya as she left the chambers. 

_ Astapor was on the horizon, a place familiar, when he was a tiny beast, Mysha attempting a political trick, seemingly giving him away. His first kill on his own, the man screamed in agony after Mysha commanded his demise.  _

_ Jon’s massive wings flapped closer, the sun had set already, nobody could see him. He was famished, exhausted, refusing the call and waiting for the small ones to grow, to cross the sea. His will changed, he changed course, flying back to Valyria, back to the volcano. Humans tasted strange, too familiar with the ones calling upon his blood, too much like Mysha. He preferred animals, horses, cows. He preferred the east, yet the call was strong. For now however, he was still free.  _

Jon’s eyes snapped open, his lips gasping through every breath. He had made it, he had made Drogon change course, leaving Astapor at whatever peace it had found after Daenerys left it with its society torn apart, root and stem. He moved his head away from the weirwood, where he had rested his forehead against the trunk, only to find Sansa standing at the perimeter of the tree’s canopy. In the light of the sunset, her hair look radiant against the orange glow, without her cloak, he would swear he could see the start of a bump beneath her breasts, or maybe he could see it only because he knew it was there. He wondered for a moment, how round she’d grow with their babe, how easy it will be for her to birth their babe, or would it tear its way through Sansa like he did with his own mother? He fought hard to push away the clutches of horror from gasping his heart. 

‘You’ll get cold,’ he rasped the words, his instinct kicking in for her safety despite his own exhaustion and discomfort from the experience with the dragon. Sansa remained stoic, looking at him as he approached, unclasping his cloak and getting it off, ready to drape it over her like he had done the night of their wedding. She remained unmoving, watching him, she could see right through him even without magical blood or supernatural powers. 

‘What happened?’ she asked, her voice leaving no space for evading the answer as they stood in each other’s personal space, yet it felt like so much stood between them. She could see it in his eyes, the change, the power over the beast, the triumph over its control, the fear over his own choices, the famine for flesh. He couldn’t deny her the truth and he couldn’t lie to her, not now, not ever again. 

‘I stopped Drogon from nearing Astapor,’ his words were low, almost apologetic as Sansa’s eyes drifted close in dread. The truth of it all becoming a cloud over them, uncertain if or when it would rain fire down on everyone. 

‘So they’re closing in,’ Sansa confirmed, her voice tight, he could feel her anger. 

‘Astapor is half a world away,’ Jon tried -lamely, he knew- to soothe her, she rewarded him with a bitter, humorless chuckle. 

‘And Valyria is even further away, yet; Drogon neared Astapor.’ Sansa confirmed and Jon sighed but nodded his head. 

‘But I averted him,’ Jon tried to reassure her. Her eyes hardened on him, anger turning into fury. 

‘What about the other two?’ Sansa asked, for this, Jon didn’t have an answer, he had made it only to warg Drogon, the other two dragons were too young, too unfamiliar, somehow. He couldn’t explain to her and he hated he couldn’t, they felt like the didn’t belong to him to control, yet they obeyed Drogon. 

‘They’re too young, they can’t be warged, I can only control Drogon and he them.’ Jon’s voice had her chuckling in that way again, he hated it. 

‘So why you’re not just warg him to rip them apart and then control him to fall on his death somehow?’ Sansa asked, her tone accusing, inquiring over mischief, as if he was a disobeying child, or a traitor playing games. ‘Like you said you would when you first tried the connection with Bran.’ Sansa reminded him of his words to her, at the Godswood of Winterfell, moons ago. He sighed and tried to explain. 

‘Where they are, they harm no one, they can stay there, I’ll keep them away.’ Jon tried, he had tried before, to explain to her but as he had expected, she had failed to understand, always focused on him finding a way to stop them, not spare them. He had known it would be difficult to explain to anyone the pain he had felt for the beasts, their own pain, through the past, when they had been forced to fight in the Dance of Dragons, in the Sack of the Dragonpit and numerous other times when the beasts had been driven to their deaths from Targaryen madness, he couldn’t do the same, not even to Drogon, for he too, had been used. In the moment he could have killed Jon, after Daenerys was finally out of the picture, the dragon had chosen to destroy the Iron Throne instead, the reason of all the madness, fire and blood. The humorless chuckle again had his own anger rising, her doubt in him evident. 

‘You don’t know if you can do that, all the time... For the rest of your life?’ Sansa almost taunted him, making him harden his body, face and will before her as they stood against each other. They had been like this before, in her solar, while she challenged him over the Dragon Queen, now they fought over her child, while their own remained between them, mending the cracks that were growing deeper. 

‘I know I can,’ Jon declared, Sansa sighed, looking away, the fear creeping in her eyes, suffocated him. 

‘I want them away from the child, away from me and the North and everyone,’ Sansa suddenly confessed, dropping her anger, showing plainly her worry and pain. Jon nodded, daring to wrap his hand around her arm, finally draping his cloak over her shoulders as he turned her face towards him, cupping it with his hands.

‘And they will be, Sansa, I swear it,’ Jon whispered, his eyes kind upon hers, their noses almost brushing. ‘They’ll stay away from Essos and from Westeros, they hate it here anyway, the South and especially the North.’ he meant his words to be soothing but Sansa was tearing herself away from his hands the next instant, her mood turning worse with every passing moment they shared like that. 

‘You know that because you feel the dragon, or was it one of the things Daenerys Targaryen taught you while you rode the beasts over Winterfell?’ As if she had been there, when Daenerys told him about the dragons disliking the North. He felt exposed at Sansa’s right guess, at her jealousy over the Mad Queen he had stopped by slaying, for her. He felt furious at Sansa for not trusting him when he had done it all for her, like he did now, keeping balance like no other person could do. ‘Why you defend such beasts.... You were there… when Drogon leveled King’s Landing-’ her loud words were interrupted by his own voice shouting. 

‘You brought me back to stop them, along that snake Tyrion, and here I am, Sansa!’ Jon was unable to quiet down as their voices echoed around the Godswood. They didn’t care if they’d be heard at that point as they gasped before each other. ‘And I will stop them, it’s the reason Bran is dying, it’s the reason I’ve lost my sleep and my appetite, as not to fail you all again! Last time I did, thousands died!’ Jon’s voice was loud, thundering, yet breaking. ‘We tried the route of killing them, only they came back with a vengeance, more were born.’ Jon was screaming now, ‘And among the thousands I might fail there’s you,’ Jon’s voice failed him at the last word, breaking completely, he looked down at her belly. ‘And you’re  _ pregnant  _ and I can’t-’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Sansa commanded him this time, clasping his arm with her own hand, mirroring his move. Only her grasp was stiff, shaking him to the reality of where they were and what they were talking about. ‘If you care about the babe, stop talking about the dragons as if they’re innocent, you saw what Drogon did,’ Sansa’s voice was a hiss, a dangerous, exhausted sound as she insisted on her words. Jon yanked his arm away from her grasp this time, her stubbornness could only match his own as he pointed his finger at her. 

‘I also saw Joffrey and Cersei commanding your father to kill Lady…’ his finger pointed south, where Winterfell was. 

_ Your father  _ His words stung with their reckless truth.

Sansa’s lips turned into a tight line, her blue eyes feeling like ice as she stared him down, his own defiant stare right against her. 

‘Lady was a pup-,’ she began to defend her late wolf against the bloody dragons but she was interrupted. 

‘To many, Lady, like Ghost and the rest, were beasts, not fit to be around people, let alone children. Like now with the pups, but I’m sure you’ll want them around our child alrigh’.’ Jon’s aggressive whisper had Sansa bellowing this time. 

‘Dragons are  _ not  _ the same as Direwolves, Jon!’ She screamed openly, ‘They only defended us while Dragons charged... What are you comparing here?’ Sansa screamed in frustration, her hand reaching for her belly in agitation. Jon didn’t miss the gesture, guilt building around his fury as she went on. 

‘Direwolves tore people apart, at our commands, just like dragons did under Targaryen command…’ He tried to explain in a calmer voice but Sansa wasn’t having it. 

‘Dragons ate each other, they ate Targaryens! Direwolves would never harm the Starks!’ she shouted, her breath coming in puffs as she threw her hands in the air, slapping her thighs, she couldn’t believe they were literally fighting over their house symbols, Jon defending the dragons pricked worse than wanting to save them altogether, his house’s symbol, his heritage, or at least half of it. She wanted to scream, to kick and slap him until he saw reason, until he felt wolf again. 

‘And neither the dragons will...’ Jon was unable to keep screaming, suddenly spent. He was afraid for her in her condition. He wished he could reassure her, he wished he could make her trust him on this. He wished he could make her see what he saw, feel the connection. She had lost Lady too soon, she had been without the creature that was to be her familiar, like Ghost was for him. 

‘Oh and you know because Targaryen blood runs through your veins?’ Sansa finally snapped, snarling the words, pushing harder, deeper, where it truly hurt them both. Her eyes filling with tears above the fury, her gaze searching his for the confirmation they both hated so much. 

‘Aye! Just like in our child’s veins!’ he howled back, words curt as he glared at her, hating himself for upsetting her more, for sharing with her the pain she inflicted upon him.

‘But not in  _ mine _ !’ She screamed back as frustrated, leaving both to gasp against each other, left with no more words to slash and cut. The fear for each other, for the babe, for the entire world bringing them together and tearing them apart. 

Jon could see the agony, for the child’s life, for her own life, he had been motherless from the beginning, she became motherless early on. She didn’t want the same for their child and neither did he, he feared the labour no matter how many times she reassured him it would be alright. She was unable to calm his own terror, just like he was unable to tame her agony over the dragons. 

‘I’ll protect you, I promise...’ he echoed his old promise, the most sacred he had given, the only one he had kept, no matter the means to that end.

Sansa had to deal with men and their politics, with whispers, schemes and  plots. She couldn’t believe Jon himself brought three winged obstacles into the mix. Obstacles he had agreed on taking down, obstacles he was the only one able to face. She believed him, she did, and she hated him for making her feel safe when it wasn’t, she hated herself for trusting him, in instinct, like a reflex, with the North, with the crown, with the Dragon Queen, now with the bloody beasts. She hated that he was willing to sacrifice himself, again and again, she hated him for doing the honorable thing. She hated herself for deep down, understanding his words of the dragons’ nature, they matched the direwolves’ in a twisted way. She hated for believing him into keeping everyone secure while her logic screamed it would be dangerous for three dragons to exist out there, with Jon the only Targaryen able to control them and his child growing within her, compelled with the weight of the world. 

‘No one can protect me,’ Sansa repeated realistically, hurt, gasping, knowing where to strike to draw blood this time as he didn’t back off. ‘And if you insist on this… no one can protect anyone…’ she added, mercilessly. He was a dragonwolf but she was a shewolf in full. If he let it be, if she didn’t accept it, this would always be a thorn between them, maybe one they wouldn’t be able to overcome to leave peacefully together. He could keep secrets from her, lie to her, it wouldn’t be the first time. She could have the dragons killed by Scorpions and poisoned arrows, act behind his back, it wouldn’t be the first time, either. They had craved betrayals against each other’s skin, even if they loved each other, love was practiced in moments like this, in action. 

Her words hurt, cutting deep, deeper than the knives that killed him, deeper than the wrench of burnt human flesh in King’s Landing, reaching his heart and lungs and blood, the blood they shared, the blood running in their babe’s veins, inside her womb. 

Their child. 

The thought was shared, he knew, as his eyes fell on her stomach and then on the ground, ashamed as Sansa’s eyes were hidden in her palm, tears falling on her cheeks. He was unable to reach and take them away. She always removed herself from his presence when she was hurt or angry, disappointed or sad. Yet, at that moment, she remained unmoving, her body silently wracked with sobs, unable to even look at him as one hand kept her eyes concealed from him, the other hugging his cloak tighter around herself, closing herself in, shielding herself and their babe from the world, from him. 

She was the Queen in the North, made by his choices to break the Crown for the people’s chance at survival and her choice to pick up the pieces. She was Sansa and she was loved. He had returned, she had restored him, picking up his own pieces, the most precious of them was growing inside her. She was the piece that linked it all together, kept  _ him  _ together and all he did was upset and scare her, he had to be smarter. 

Her name was a mere whisper in his lips as he removed himself from her personal space. His shoulder brushing against his cloak around her body as he left her at peace. His eyes filling with tears as he heard her quiet sobs behind him. He urged on, certain she wanted to be on her own, safe from the cold; tucked inside his cloak and behind the walls she erected around herself. 

Sansa looked up at the canopy of the weirdwood above as tears streamed down her face, The night had fallen, the stars were watching her. The cold was biting, Jon’s cloak enveloping her in warmth and his scent made her gasp and sob harder, the dizziness returning. She made the few steps reaching the trunk of the weirdwood, where her hand touched the tree, the other hand holding on to her stomach, protecting the child, like its father had promised to protect her. 

The sobs only grew stronger as Sansa wailed, her knees soon giving way as she bent before the tree, his cloak around her; a constant reminder of the burdens they had to carry for each other, for their child and the world. 

Sansa looked at her hand, clawing at the tree and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she did the only thing she hoped would bring some solace. 

Hoping she still remembered how to do it, hoping she’d be heard after so long, Sansa closed her eyes and prayed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I'm sure some people might feel these two shouldn't be fighting and they pushed each other too much but jonsa was like that from day one (after that amazing hug in Castle Black) Sansa always challenged him and Jon tried to prove himself, he tried to follow his judgement but he also learnt he should listen to her, and Sansa had learnt to keep it lower than what she'd like, they also lied to each other and acted independently away from each other (during s6, 7 and 8) which to me, makes them human and normal people instead of that 'YoUr MYeh QuoeEwn" lapdog Jon became and Sansa that cold creature who only received hurt and responsibility without the space or time to breathe or scream about it.   
> in this instance, they're both right and wrong and they have been under a lot of pressure. I hope you enjoyed the dynamic, the angst and the love they share for each other, their baby and the balance of the world.   
> I wanted to touch deeper and deeper on many things like Jon's Targaryen side growing and how they both deal with it as a fact because in Season 8 it was only used as a weaponized information and that was it, here however, I want it to be important on many levels. and I want them to mature and learn to live with each other's choices, especially now that a choice of theirs (even accidentally) grows between them in Sansa's belly and causes her mood swings  
> thank you again, comments, happy or angry for putting jonsa through angst, are welcome :)


	25. Brave Gentle and Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this weekend, I was supposed to sleep a lot and rest, instead, Jonsa kept me up until 4 am so I could write this, thanks guys! appreciate it! Although mostly it was Jon writing the chapter and himself in this, changing the rest of the story as I had imagined it, thanks mate!  
> *yawns like Robert Baratheon*   
> thank you all for the support through comments and kudos!

_ Chapter Twenty Five - Brave Gentle and Strong _

  
  


Sansa tried to relax inside the hot oiled water, the firelight from the hearth the only light in the room. She closed her eyes and exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath, her hands moved within the water, touching the hard bump behind her belly button, yes, it was definitely there, her head resting on the rim of the tub, her lower lip trembling. 

_ ‘Are you completely insane? Get up, Sans. For fuck’s sake, get up. You won’t die from the cold of a Spring night after all you’ve been through. Do you hear me, Sansa Stark?’  _ Arya had demanded as she and Meera had helped Sansa to her feet and guided her back in the castle, discreetly so no one from the court of the Glovers could see the young Queen in disarray. 

Arya had ordered a bath for the Queen and had commanded said Queen to remain in her chambers while she’d found  _ ‘Him’,  _ she had spat the word angrily. She would attend the feast with Meera to keep everyone calm in the Queen’s and Warden’s absence. She would also spread the whispers as she had promised Sansa she’d do, about her and Jon, about how happy and united they were, even though currently they felt anything but.  _ ‘Don’t you dare come out of this chamber if you haven’t solved whatever happened between you two, am I clear?’  _ Arya had demanded at Sansa’s tearful face as she and Meera had left once Sansa was safely seated inside the steaming water. 

Sansa would never admit to Arya her thoughts, no, Arya would have been appealed. She could even lash out and pull at Sansa’s hair, like she did when she was younger. But Sansa couldn’t help but see their Lady Mother in her little sister during those moments of utter protection and despotic commands. 

Family, Duty, Honor, Arya held those values better than Sansa. She sighed, her hand reaching her sore knees, that bent position had been proven painful, just like Sansa’s thoughts. Maybe Arya had held those Tully values even better than their Lady Mother herself.

Catelyn Stark had died with her own broken sense of Family, Duty and Honor. Sansa was always the child closest to her Mother, knowing her secrets and her own hardships. She had caught her  praying for the sick boy catching the pox. Sansa had been only nine but she remembered her mother begging the Mother and the Crone for forgiveness for wishing the boy’s death, she remembered her Mother vowing to love the child if it was spared that night, while she made the wheel for him. She remembered Catelyn Stark opening the doors of the small Sept and finding Sansa there, swearing her in secrecy over “matters of the Gods” and running to Jon’s bedside with wild eyes, while the Stark children were banned from that side of the castle in fear of them catching the pox too. 

Sansa remembered the next day, when their Mother had reached with news of Jon surviving the night, Sansa had been joyous, her Mother not. Sansa remembered the days and months and years that followed, Catelyn not keeping her vow to the Gods for loving the motherless boy. She remembered how awful she had been to him herself -occasionally- he had admitted with a laugh at Castle Black, and he had forgiven her. Yet, she had kept the promise to her mother, never to say a word. She had broken her vow to him over his parentage. Only if both of them could be around, Sansa’s secrets would have mend their broken hearts and relationship. Damn the Tully values over their happiness. Damn the Stark honor and the Targaryen threats of fire and blood, she just wanted Jon and herself to be happy, for their baby to be born in their arms, with no fear, no doom looming over his or her little head. She had prayed to the Gods to show her the right path, the right way. 

The tears streamed down her cheeks as Sansa opened her eyes the moment she felt the tiny tongue licking at the droplets from her fingers, her hand hanging from the bathtub’s edge. Little Spring was licking at her finger, Sansa smiled tearfully at the grey-white female puppy, the most approachable of them. Her siblings were all curled in a fluffy spot between Sansa’s tub and the fireplace. Coal was a little black ball of energy, Ion was grey and black, silent and shy, Nyx was black with some spots of grey and white on her fur, always protecting the rest, a little wild, and Shadow was grey with red details on his face, smart and reckless and funny like every puppy.  

She kept her eyes on the pups as the door of her chambers opened and closed quietly, the door was barred with a click. Sansa sighed at the familiar steps, his breathing approaching her until his fingers were brushing her bare shoulder and Jon was kneeling before her on the side of the tub. Red rimmed gazes locked with each other, guilt and remorse blended with love and pain as the couple looked at each other in silence. Spring seemed annoyed at the intrusion, squealing and charging for Jon’s thigh, only to topple over and run to her siblings, making Sansa and Jon chuckle for a moment before they could focus on each other again. 

‘Arya sent you here?’ Sansa tried first and Jon gave the tiniest of smiles. 

_ ‘I’ll skin you like a rabbit if I see Sansa like this again. I don’t care whose fault it is, you’re both fucking stupid for all I care, but she’s pregnant, you bleeding idiot. Go to her and don’t you dare come out of that chamber if you haven’t solved whatever happened between you two, am I clear?’  _ Arya had barked when she found him in the stables, where he had hidden himself. He only nodded, not needing another moment wasted away from Sansa. 

‘Mostly kicked me here,’ he admitted as he reached for Sansa’s hand the pup was licking moments before. He kissed her knuckles as Sansa gave the tiniest of smiles, it fainted as the blue of her eyes melted in the darkness of his. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Sansa whispered first, she had asked for his forgiveness before, he had granted it every time.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ he whispered a moment after her, they sighed, both exhausted and spent after the evening they had spent against each other.  

‘We can’t fight a war amongst ourselves, not now,’ his other hand moved beneath the water, gingerly touching her belly, Sansa welcomed the caress as her eyes filled with tears again.  ‘Not while almost all our enemies are defeated.’ his soft words were so very familiar. He cupped her cheek as she took a shuddering breath, pregnant women lost their composure easily, or maybe it was the years-long pain she carried. Or the fact that they were still so young yet through so much to be scarring each other with the weapons acquired by their fallen enemies.

‘I can’t live in a world where fire breathing creatures can come anytime, for you, for our child.’ Sansa’s voice was small, yet clear and honest as more tears gathered in her eyes, one fell upon her skin and touched his thumb, he took it away for her. He had been right, and she knew, their child would be half Targaryen, they liked it or not, they would have the Stark name but the Targaryen blood would always sing to the dragons, beckoning them. ‘Jon, I’m afraid -’

‘I’m afraid too,’ Jon admitted, cutting her words only to show her they felt the same. They bled the same for that damn world that had been so unjust and cruel to them. ‘But I can’t live in a world where more injustices happen under my watch, because of me.’ Jon added and Sansa sighed, understanding him even if she didn’t like it.  

‘Jon, I just want everyone to be safe,’ Sansa tried and Jon nodded his head frantically, his hands remained on her belly and face, caressing her skin, her hands held his arms.

_  "What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... Wind and words... We are only human...the gods have fashioned... us for love... That is our great glory...our great tragedy." _

_ ‘We're all human. Oh, we all do our duty when there's no cost to it. Honor comes easy then. Yet, sooner or later in every man's life there comes a day when it's not easy. A day when he must choose.’ _

‘I know, I want the same, and I know, in my attempt to achieve that, I have lied to you, I hurt you.’ Jon’s voice was breaking again as he faced how he failed her, they shared that pain. ‘I’m not asking you to swear to me you’ll do what I want. Because I know you will break your vow if you deem necessary,’ His truth stung her, they shared that pain too. They were synchronized over broken vows, over fallen honor and family duties, discarded. Yet, they had destroyed their better selves for each other.

‘So all I’m asking you…’ Jon’s eyes were soft upon hers, his hand warm against her cheek, on her belly. ‘Do you have any faith in me at all?’ he echoed the words, back then, they were pretending they were only siblings, the Long Night was upon them. Now, they were spouses, man and wife, the Summer was before them, a time not fit for wolves. The North was melting and the South seemed scorging.  

‘Don’t do this to me…’ Sansa begged tearfully but Jon held her forehead against his own. 

‘Do you?’ he insisted desperately, she nodded her head, fighting back tears, he kissed her hard on the lips, the pain finally ebbing. They should have kissed back then, he should have been honest back then, maybe her hand wouldn’t be been forced, maybe everything would have been different. 

‘You know I do.’ she echoed the truth, the same truth that always stood. She trusted him, when she had lost trust in everything else, after Ramsay, and she trusted him even when Daenerys Targaryen took their home because of him. She trusted him when he did what was necessary and she trusted him while she defended his life at the dragonpit, changing his demise into exile. She trusted him with the North, with her body and soul, her future and her offspring. She trusted him more than she trusted herself.

‘Then prove it,’ Jon urged Sansa.  ‘Trust me, like I trust you with all the devices and plans you’re waving.’ he added, no accusation in his voice, only a deep understanding, a support she couldn’t have expected from anyone else but her noble and honest cousin and husband. ‘You had asked me to be smarter…’ Jon added, reminding her the words they had shared. ‘I am trying to be, by listening to you,’ his words were calm, honest, knowing, he knew her so well.  ‘I see where we’re heading, Sansa and I am being smarter by letting you sculpt our future as you see fit, because you know better.’ Jon added, looking deep into her eyes, the unconditional trust, the lack of suspicion or disappointment from his end. They weren’t innocent anymore, nor naive or stupid but they were each other’s constant. 

They had survived it all, now they only had to finish the game in their own rules. ‘Let me command the armies, tame the beasts, and in the long run, they might even be useful…’ Jon’s words had Sansa’s brows crease in confusion. ‘Drogon gave me a chance,’ Jon explained, recalling the moment. ‘After I killed the only being he had left, he chose not to kill me. I owe him that, and maybe, just maybe, the dragon threat could become an advantage.’ Jon tried and Sansa watched him carefully. Jon was a tactician, it was his element, he had something in mind. He had changed so much, through the balance he tried to maintain, through the power he had yielded as Commander, King and Warden, the power he had felt used upon his skin, as Bastard, Crow and Exile, he had evolved.

‘Drogon did me the favour of destroying the Throne for me, for us.’ Jon’s words were low, Sansa could almost see the dragon melting that ugly chair in Jon’s eyes. ‘For us… I never wanted the throne, of the South or the North,’ Jon was honest as he confessed his deepest desires. ‘Not in the state they were in, not on my own.’ Jon explained and Sansa nodded, he was opening up like never before, and she was listening. The slow learner, she was taking a lesson of listening not to make weapons out of the information, but to respect the wishes of the man she loved. ‘But now, with you by my side, with our child inside...’ Jon gave a tiny smile as he glanced at the water where her body and his arm disappeared, just above her breasts.  ‘I know we can’t escape who we are, or what people will always demand of us, no matter where we go… no matter how hard we deny it.’ Jon was honest, right, truthful. ‘And the same will stand for our child…’ he added and Sansa sighed and nodded. She was proud he too had foresaw all this, she was glad he wasn’t stumbling in the dark, that she shouldn't have to drag him along. He had changed, he was being smarter indeed, and she was being more considerate, opening up in her schemes and plots, making room for a player equal to her. They would be together in this. 

‘You know what Bran is trying to do…’ Sansa confirmed in a whisper and Jon chuckled sadly and stole a kiss from her lips. For the first time, they both saw things before they happened. For the first time, they were not surprised, they were not bystanders, they wouldn’t just be prepared, they would prepare the game themselves.

‘I suspect so, yes.’ Jon added as he glanced at the puppies behind him.  ‘My birthright as Aegon Targaryen will always be bound with the fact of Rheagar destroying his marriage, dishonoring Dorne, dooming his other two children and the kingdom for my mother...And she will be remembered as the woman who allowed it all to happen.’ Jon’s words were bitter, he had been realistic about it, brutally so. Sansa held his arm gently as he caressed her belly within the water. 

A Targaryen Father and a Stark Mother had destroyed the seven kingdoms, now another Targaryen Father and a Stark Mother would make them prosper.

‘But if we show everyone the truth…’ Jon pondered and Sansa could feel the truth not hurting so much anymore. ‘That I’m the only man able to control the dragons… The Wall is melting, we don’t know what lays in the True North...The free cities could always attempt something with the Dothraki and the Unsullied as a new force for them there. Daario Naharis is still alive, he has the Second Sons with him…While here in Westeros, after so many wars and so much conflict, we don’t have enough men to take care of the fields and join the armies. We’ll need years for the people to give birth to healthy children.’ Jon was counting the dangers and weaknesses. To Sansa, they were foreigners who had left at last, but for someone who knew of war and campaigns, Jon was still wary and he knew the state of the armies on both kingdoms.  ‘Yara Greyjoy is still furious and the Ironborn yearn for Independence…I’m sure Dorne is also hanging in the balance without a house strong enough to rise and take an honest position pro or against Bran...’ He had been there, reading through every scroll with her, for the North but also across the South, they knew what was happening to both kingdoms. He was right, they needed a force, a back up, until armies were strong again, the dragons could aid them as that force in the time of need.

‘People shiver at the idea of dragons but if they were to live far away and used only -if necessary- to defend Westeros in times of need… we’ll gain enough respect -mixed with awe- to rule over everyone in peace for many years.’ Jon’s words were so unlike him and at the same time, so sensible, like himself, he was always subtle, listening, and when it was time for him to act, he acted as he should. He knew the simple people while she had been forged in the ways of courts and highborn lords and ladies, mere sheep and poisonous vipers, they could both act around them all. 

‘The dragons could be the leverage we need, without the terror they inspire, without them getting chained and imprisoned like mere dogs… They’re smart, they value freedom, they also value the call, they will be less angry and unpredictable if they’re free in Valyria instead of forced to behave among their food....And if need arises, they will come and do what they must for me, we won’t have to go to the Iron Bank, we won’t have to lose thousands from both sides, if used properly, even the suspicion of the dragons will keep everyone in line.’ Jon whispered hopefully, yet Sansa couldn’t help the dark thought of them corrupted, using the dragons to terrify people, to burn them all. 

No, the Targaryen before her, and the one inside her wouldn’t use the dragon’s fire, just the mere existence of them to establish peace, instead of forcing it upon everyone. They were making a choice that was changing everything, the coin was being flipped in the air again. Sansa wanted to protest while it spun in the air, she wanted to say the people should only love them, not fear them but the realistic side of hers, the one taught by her many cruel tutors knew better. People needed awe and inspiration, love and respect, but they also needed a dose of fear. Sansa had seen how quickly people turned against their rulers, she had seen it in King’s Landing and she had seen in it Winterfell.  She had already survived through seven kings and three queens, all unbalanced between the components needed to rule. She knew what had happened to people who failed to be smarter, who were blindly honorable, fearless like her brother, fearful like her father. She had been forced to look at the head of one of them on a spike. Now she carried hers and Jon’s child inside her, she couldn’t take chances.

 ‘I’m tired of fighting,’ Jon confessed quietly, pulling her back in the present, her complicated ponderings fractured by what he had told her so long ago, before the two greatest battles he had given, the same pain and exhaustion painted his voice the same.  ‘And this little one, here…’ Jon offered tenderly. ‘Will be born and no one will be able to harm him or her for we command the beasts and the monsters of this world.’ Jon promised, his voice deep, calming, confident. ‘He or she will never have to fight or get hurt like we did.’’ Jon finished his words, leaving Sansa to think, to process his words. 

 

‘The dragons,’ Sansa started and Jon listened to her carefully this time. ‘Is the only thing I cannot control.’ Sansa whispered her weakness.. ‘But I trust  _ you  _ to take care of them as you see fit.’ she added and he finally smiled at her as they leaned closer for a kiss. ‘But I need you to trust me as well, I need your support.’ Sansa added, the future was set before them, not in stone, but they made their own destiny and some choices would be hard to be taken. 

‘I trust you, sweet love,’ Jon whispered, their lips brushing, ‘When you say you will survive the labour, no matter how terrified I am for you, no matter how guilty I feel for not thinking of the moon tea myself...No matter how hard I try not to let my terror cloud my joy for our babe.’ the self-blame returned but before she could protest further than whispering his name in warning, he added. ‘I trust you,’ and she sighed as they shared another kiss. 

‘You had thought of names..’ Sansa whispered when their kiss was over, their bodies shifting closer to each other even with the wall of the tub between them. Their arms reaching for each other, roaming over bare skin and leather, making water splash around as it was turning cooler.  Jon looked at Sansa in confusion, she smiled. ‘You had thought of names,’ Sansa repeated as she took his hand back on her belly again, she loved it there. ‘You told me of Aryana and Robb, Ned, Rickon and Margery…’ Sansa added, reminding him of his promise for a better future, a future full of children. ‘You remembered when I told you about Margery Tyrell…’ Sansa pointed out and Jon smiled and took her hand to kiss again as he nodded, her long fingers brushed his beard. 

‘Aye...I listened. During our first stay in Castle Black.’ Jon admitted, when they spent those few weeks at the Wall and then around the North, just like now. ‘About Margery, when you told me about your stay at King’s Landing.’ he confirmed his consideration of her words, a blush creeping up his pale cheeks. ‘I heard the awful things you went through,’ Jon mostly added to himself, his eyes looking down. ‘But I also heard the good ones, the memories you had of Highgarden and your favorite lemon cakes and-’ he was interrupted as Sansa advanced this time, splashing more water as her hands reached for his face, the back of his neck as she pulled him closer to her in a kiss that took their breaths away. 

Brave gentle, strong, he was all the things her father had promised to that stupid girl. He was her cousin, traditionally married like the Starks did. His cousin, like the Targaryens did with family. Yet, they wouldn’t be like their families, they wouldn’t be blindly honorable or unable to face their duties, they wouldn’t tear the kingdoms apart in the name of love. 

No, their love would unite the kingdoms, they would be honorable but not naive. They would protect their family and keep it safe, that was the only duty they had to serve no matter the cost. Love and Duty would be mingled into their family,  

‘Sansa…’ he tried to break the kiss only for Sansa to relaunch. He wrapped his arms around her and raised his body, hoisting her with him. He gasped against her lips as he took her in his arms, all naked and dripping, his jerkin heavy from the water, just like her hair as they spread water all over the stone floor. He gasped and chuckled in effort and Sansa laughed as he struggled to carry her to the fur covered bed, without slipping on the wet stone floor, lowering her carefully on the furs with a strained chuckle. 

‘I’m not that heavy yet, am I?’ she asked with joy in her eyes, he grinned and shook his head. 

‘No matter they weight, I’ll carry it.’ he promised and Sansa smiled at him as she sat up and helped him get rid of his clothes as quickly as they could, between kisses and love words. Sansa was soon laying back down, Jon knelt between her thighs, admiring her. He could see the slight curves, as she lay, he could see the bump, three full moons and it was right there, their babe, the fruit of their secret love. The secret was melting into whispers, soon to be words and then shouts, of joy, they would make sure. And then the baby would come and it would be safe and sound, just like Sansa and he would finally calm his racing heart as he’d cuddle his son or daughter with Sansa healthy next to him. 

‘Are you sure we can?’ Jon asked as he reached above her, his lips leaving feather like kisses on the skin of her neck. Sansa moaned and nodded her head, kissing his cheek, the shell of his ear, her hands roaming the toned muscles of his back, one hand reached his arse, squeezing while the other boldly reaching between them and grasping his cock. 

‘Yes, I asked, it’s  safe,’ Sansa’s voice was rushed and Jon raised his head and grinned at his eager wife, a brow raised. 

‘You’re in heat,’ he confirmed, Sansa laughed needily. 

‘You have no idea.’ she gasped as he lowered his lips over her left nipple, sucking gently, making her shudder and pull at him. This would be quick, they could both feel it. They hadn’t touched each other in so many days. The nausea, traveling from place to place. Jon’s exhaustion and Sansa’s sleepless nights. They craved for each other. Sansa guided Jon at her entrance and nodded for him to move, already slick and ready. He thrust slowly, all the way to the hilt, making both gasp and moan each other’s names. 

He wasn’t just gentle, he was tentative, worried, she could feel it in his breathing and his muscles, his hands caressing instead of stroking or squeezing. His eyes searching and searching for traces of discomfort, like they had when they first made love and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t more hurt and scarred . 

‘Jon…’ Sansa whispered as she reached for his cheek, guiding him to look at her. ‘I won’t break, I promise,’ she reassured him, his gaze softening. ‘Make love to me,’ she gasped the words as he pulled out only to thrust in again, his need making his breath ragged as he held back. ‘Fuck me,’ she whispered boldly close to his lips as she raised her head to claim his lips with her, giving him the permesion he needed. He responded to the kiss fiercely, her words encouraging him to move his hips against her. His arms trapping hers on the sides of her head, their fingers intertwined as her legs wrapped around his thrusting body, urging him deeper. She moaned as he grinded against her body just the way she liked him, her moans and gasps of his name only encouraged him on. 

He loved her, with all his heart, just like she loved him. No burdens, no beasts and no monsters, enemies died at their feet, armies fought for them and Lords bowed down. It was their time and they would find the balance they needed, they would make the final sacrifices for their safe reign, for a world where their child would be safe. Where they would be happy. 

Jon was soon turning them around so Sansa could be on top, she enjoyed the control, the angle, the awe in his eyes as she rode him. She was beautiful, drying waves of copper hair, hooded eyes, parted lips, fuller breasts, creamy skin under his  palms, softer waist. And that little bump over there in her belly, filling him with pride and happiness, with love he couldn’t get even to describe. He couldn’t help but lower a hand to it, caressing it gently as Sansa moved above him, wantonly, calling out his name, his hand traveled down southern, finding her nub of nerves, only three flicks and she was peaking, riding him all the while, unable to contain her ecstasy. He was happy with her happiness, of her condition, her heightened desire, her glow, her sight one of fertility and beauty, she was gorgeous and his, only his. 

‘Sansa… my Sansa,’ his moan was broken as he thrust up into her convulsing pleasure, supporting her with his hands on her this and waist.

The sight and the sensation of her hot and pulsating around him was enough for Jon to fall over the edge, following her into bliss as he came with a strangled groan. Sansa smiled, happily, triumphantly, as she removed herself from Jon’s lap and lay next to him, her hair had the furs wet and smelling of lavender. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she pillowed his arm, his hand playing with her own arm as she draped one leg over his thighs. 

They stayed in silence for awhile, until Sansa’s stomach growled so hard Jon looked at her in humored bewilderment, she looked up at him sheepishly. Her pregnancy was a road paved with nausea and mood swings so far, he was only glad sexual heat and hunger got in the mix, he would be sleeping easier knowing she ate and slept properly. 

‘The nausea is lessening, but I’m always hungry.’ Sansa confirmed his thoughts, and then mischievously wriggled her brows, making Jon bark a laugh as he sighed and kissed her forehead, nodding before he could laugh, enjoying the carefree moment with his wife. 

‘You’re such a good, sweet love, I could sneak and find some food…’ Jon offered and Sansa grinned at the title. ‘Then, we’ll see if you’re still hungry.’ Jon added and Sansa nodded bit her lips, her hand traveling down his torso, pass his flat stomach to wrap her hand around him again, the sudden attention had an immediate result, as Jon gasped and both looked down at where she grabbed his cock before they could grin at each other. 

‘I think I will be, and you will be too.’ Sansa teased and Jon nodded as he wrapped his arms around her again, pushing him back on the furs as he reclaimed his position above her, they shared a kiss of passion and love, food could wait for a little longer. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it all started with my beloved Arya being my beloved Arya towards both, I added the puppies and the wheel of Catelyn, a secret I believe Sansa could know of as she was the child closest to Catelyn and then the chapter wrote itself between fluff, angst, pol!jonsa, dark!jonsa and smut to top it all.   
> Jon even surprised me and Sansa too had me nodding my head as the characters wrote themselves in the middle of the night.  
> I hope you all liked it, Jon Snow knows something and they both have finally learnt, thank you very much. they have grown, both of them, they paid with their selves to be taught and now they can top the game, only they are at stake, the rest they can take care of I believe and wanted to highlight in this chapter.  
> they see Bran is pulling them, or rather pushing them up and they know they must be prepared, especially now with their child on the way, complicating everything and setting a deadline.   
> * in case you were confused the Kings were Robert, Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Tommen, Robb and Jon himself whole the Queens mentioned were Cersei, Daenerys and Margery, they all wore crowns on their heads, and they all lost them one way or the other because they couldn't have balance   
> Next chapter we go back to Winterfell as the Spring Tour finally ends. thank you very much for the comments so far, they are love and they keep me going!  
> cheers!🥰


	26. What Honor Demands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another royal guest at Winterfell... And jonsa have plans for him

_ Chapter 26  - What Honor Demands _

 

The snow had melted around Winterfell by the time the Starks returned. People were joyous for welcoming back Arya Stark along Sansa and Jon. The Queen was glad to find the orphans and illegitimate sons and daughters -as she commanded for them to be called; instead of bastards- all sorted out according to their age and in training based on their best traits, all were fed and clothed, taught that Sansa was their mother, along the rest of the North. The toddlers were taken care of by milk mothers and childless women as Sansa had commanded prior the Tour, many had given their names already to the children, supported by the Act of Succession. 

She smiled as she moved inside the Godswood on her own, reaching for her husband in the center of it, under the canopy of the weirdwood. She was dressed formally in Stark grey and Tully blue as the royal guest was to arrive that day. Arya had been running on nerves, and Sansa quite enjoyed her sister’s nervousness, if she were honest with herself. 

Sansa wore her grey cloak -despite the sunny day in Winterfell-only to conceal her body that was changing rapidly. Nature was blooming around and so was she, changing from day to day with the babe growing inside her. She was grateful for Maester Wolkan having secretly summoned the best midwives of the North, the day the Tour party returned. By the time the midwives would be reaching Winterfell for Sansa, she would have made sure for the news to be out. 

The whispers had spread, around the North and across the South. The Queen in the North was very close to the Warden of the North, they were together. The Direwolf pups a sign of a new generation approaching. The Spring Tour had been a success. Robin Arryn of the Vale was to marry the eldest Manderly granddaughter, even though no official announcement had been made. Dragons roamed freely in the far East. Jon Stark - to some Aegon Targaryen- had stopped Drogon from approaching Essos. King Bran the Broken was sick. Another Great Summit might soon be called upon, by the Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister. The Lord of the Stormlands was reaching the North to find Arya Stark now that she was back in Westeros. 

The whispers were so many, mingled with myth and with each other, past and the future events wove a net of rumours, gossip, half truths through songs and whispers, always controlled on content and purpose. People spoke of the White and the Red Wolf uniting under the Wolf Moon, the pups were a sign of their future. There were whispers of a wedding in the middle of the night while wolves howled to conceal the secret of the union, a union proven just and fair by the results of the Tour. People spoke of Sansa changing, glowing with happiness, sired by the dragonwolf, expecting the child of the man who got rid of the Mad Queen, she allowed the words to be spoken, the baby was growing inside her after all. Sansa had been happy to learn people were only excited about her and Jon, their secret had turned out to be overshadowed by the news of dragons and a sick King while the North and the South reconnected through marriages. Arya had done an amazing job spreading the news, not laced in shock and upheaval but cloaked in excitement and need for gossip, married with admiration and hope.

‘Sweet love,’ Jon’s voice greeted her with his favorite endearment, she approached slowly, his back was to her, eclipsing the carved face on the tree, he was dressed in black and dark grey, his hair in a bun, his body relaxed. His eyes closed, still connected with the dragons yet aware of her closing in, he wasn’t even touching the tree anymore. Little by little, he was becoming independent of Bran’s help, he was being prepared, as he had promised. And she trusted him, as promised, she practiced that trust by withdrawing and storing all scorpions she had commanded to be built before the start of the Tour. If the dragons were ever to reach the North, they would only be under Jon’s control.

‘He’s away?’ Sansa asked quietly as she approached Jon and he opened his eyes and looked at her, nodding his head, for a moment she would swear she saw violet glimpses of color in his dark grey orbs. She nodded, slowly embracing their pact, they were in this together.

‘And staying there along the other two, they’re growing strong, one red, one grey.’ Jon explained, giving more information for the creatures Sansa struggled to accept the existence of. She nodded her head, her hand going to her belly the same moment Jon’s palm reached for the same spot within her cloak. He smiled at her, reaching for a kiss she gave willingly. 

It was slow, fulfilling, reminding them both of their earlier activities in the Queen’s chambers that morning. The people around the North spoke in whispers, words, shouts of them, yet the people around Winterfell simply smiled at the sounds coming from those chambers. While the Boltons held Winterfell, there had been sounds of agony from Lady Bolton, now there were sounds of bliss and pleasure from the Queen in the North. Yet, for decency’s sake, the Queen and the Warden still kept their hands to themselves while around people. They waited until the shouts turned into silence again. 

Jon’s hands had wrapped around Sansa,  keeping her by the waist and back to him, her own hands around his shoulders. Their kiss making them melt against each other until Sansa gasped in a moan, her eyes glancing at the carved face on the tree, watching silently.

‘We should stop, I’m hot,’ Sansa’s voice was breathless as Jon reached for her lips again but she pulled back, biting down on her lip, they had to compose themselves. 

‘You are, hot and beautiful and mine,’ Jon confirmed and she chuckled, pushing him back completely to catch her breath. 

‘No, Jon, I mean it, the cloak, the sun, I’m hot,’ Sansa laughed and Jon grinned, he felt her forehead with his lips, like his very first kiss on her brow. 

‘No fever. But maybe you should take it off.’ Jon offered but Sansa shook her head as she rearranged the cloak. 

‘Not yet,’ she smiled as she looked down at her protruding belly. She was growing large, larger than women she had seen around the court of King’s Landing and in Winterfell. The Maester had said it had to do with the place the babe was in her belly -whatever that meant- she was only happy so far everything was alright with her pregnancy. She would bear the cloak until it was time. ‘No corset fits me anymore, in the next few days, the midwives will be here. Then, Arya will confirm the rumours… the Maester said we should lie about the weeks, we’ll pretend the child will be a little premature to cook things in our favour, even present it as a wedding night babe, no matter when that night was.’ Sansa explained the idea Maester Wolkan had spoken about. Jon only nodded as his hand went back to her belly, his lips to her jaw. 

‘Whatever is safer for your reputation and the baby’s.’ Jon offered protectively as Sansa smiled and nodded. ‘Speaking of reputation, how is Arya today?’ Jon’s eyes were full of amusement, matching Sansa’s. 

‘Hopefully presentable, as Gendry must be arriving soon. We’ll be called soon to greet him. I hope she’s ready.’ Sansa replied, she hadn’t seen her sister as Arya hadn't showed up from her chambers nor joined them to break fast with them. ‘I hope she won’t run away or do something supid.’ Sansa added and Jon smiled, offering his arm for her to take as to leave the Godswood together. Sansa put her arm around his, his free hand holding Longclaw’s pommel while her own free hand tugged at her cloak around her middle section. 

‘Doing something stupid is quite possible with such distance between them, Sans.’ Jon offered softly, Sansa nodded with a sigh, looking ahead among the trees. 

‘I hope this distance can be narrowed, minimized.’ Sansa offered and glanced at Jon as he turned and looked at his wife. 

‘She won’t leave the North, especially now with the babe on the way.’ Jon whispered as he glanced down at her. Sansa nodded her head, knowing Jon was right. 

‘The babe will come and will grow, we’ll be together but Arya has sacrificed enough, she deserves happiness. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.’ Sansa replied and Jon smiled for a moment, remembering Arya’s own praze for Sansa in that same Godswood while the Long Night was upon them. 

‘She loves you, and she will always defend our family, if you plan a union for her, be straightforward with her, she’s not that Manderly girl or Lady Glover…’

‘I know… but this is not just politics, Jon.’ Sansa countered softly. ‘Gendry is loyal to the North anyway, he was at the Dragonpit and he defended you while we kicked and screamed for your release.’ Sansa remembered, Jon mentally noted to thank the young man for his support. ‘He would do whatever Arya asked him to do, even if it was Daenerys who legitimized him.’ Sansa’s words were calm, the wounds of the past healing as they could speak openly over people and things that pained them. 

‘I want her to be happy, I want her to have her freedom, but also to be loved. And Gendry loves her, so very much.’ Sansa explained and Jon nodded this time, he had missed bits and pieces after he brought the Dragons North, the Long Night always a priority. He had missed that part along so many more. He couldn’t help but feel the discomfort and overprotectiveness over a man wanting Arya. He sighed and finally smiled as they moved slowly towards the exit of the Godswood. Close to the gate of it, Ghost was overseeing his pups engaged into a fight of little squirms, howls and wagging tails. They were growing as fast as Sansa’s belly, already starting to snarl when annoyed, they were still small and adorable but Jon was happy they would soon be massive and protective of Sansa as all five of them seemed to love her more than anyone else. 

Sansa smiled at their sight as Jon looked at her, marveling at her glow, he could see all different changes, and he adored each and every one of them, fuller breasts, softer face, smiling eyes and a calmness in her gaze, at last settling in. 

‘The North is ecstatic with the news of Lady Manderly and Robin getting betrothed. Yet, we have no official answer from Lord Royce…’ Jon offered and Sansa smiled at her husband. 

‘It will arrive soon, the reaction to the news is enough for them to see reason, along the news of our own union and possible offspring…’ Sansa replied as she touched her belly one last time before they could reach the buzzing courtyard. ‘Lord Royce is a smart man, he knows what he should do with Robin… He knew I was unavailable by the time they first came here with the proposal in the Winter, he knows they need White Harbor as much as we need the Vale. Their answer will be positive, I’m certain. I also want Lady Glover with Harrold Hardying. That would stabilize the North with the Vale for good.’ Sansa added and Jon smiled. 

‘Harry the Arse, they call him,’ Jon earned a swat from Sansa who laughed as well, the young man had a reputation of rudeness, but also of great handsomeness. Sansa didn’t have the time for admonition as the sound of blowing horns signaled the nearing of Gendry Baratheon to Winterfell. 

The two Starks exited the gate of the Godswood with the little wolves tailing the hem of Sansa’s cloak to the couple’s amusement. 

 

The Queen and the Warden of the North stood proud in their formal attire as the delegation from the Stormlands reached Winterfell’s courtyard. The Baratheon Stag waving in the banners as Gendry’s horse trotted, bringing him closer with each passing moment, dressed in regal clothes, so different and so fitting on his massive body as he held the reins of his horse. It felt like a lifetime ago when Robert Baratheon was reaching Winterfell and Ned Stark greeted him. 

Sansa felt a slight breeze, dismissing it as one of the puppies ruffling her cloak but a moment later, Arya was stoically standing on her left while Jon stood by her right side. She would have jumped in fright if she wasn’t used to her weird sister. 

‘For the love of… behave, where have you been?’ Sansa asked, turning towards her sister, only to be completely ignored by Arya who had locked gazes with Gendry as he reached them, dismounted and approached, without breaking eye contact with the youngest Stark despite protocol and roles. 

Jon shifted uncomfortably on his spot while Sansa bowed her head to hide her smirk, Arya would kill her if she noticed as all eyes remained on the four royals of the Stark and the Baratheon Houses. 

‘My Lady…’ Gendry’s voice was lost, his eyes filled with admiration, excitement and love, adoration. Sansa couldn’t help but step in, put some order for the sake of propriety as the atmosphere became heavier between her sister and her.... boyfriend? Sansa wasn’t sure. 

‘Queen, you address me as Queen, or “Your Grace”.’ Sansa spoke the words even if she knew Gendry hadn’t even addressed her in the first place. Yet, she broke the spell and he snapped him out of his stupor, set by her sister and he finally looked at her amused face. 

‘Oh I, My Grace-my Queen, I mean, Your Grace,’ Gendry finally greeted Sansa, bowing and kissing her hand, his eyes always drifting to Arya who hid her smile and finally looked away to give him some mentality to focus on the basics. 

‘My Lord, you’re welcome to Winterfell, we’re  _ so  _ happy to have you back.’ Sansa’s words were clearly taunting, making Gendry blush as he finally bowed and thanked her quietly, always modest and kind. Gendry reached Jon next who smiled and clasped hands with the man before they could share an embrace. 

‘My Lord,’ they both said in unison as they smiled at each other, they had fought the same battles, they loved the Stark sisters, that created a mutual respect for each other. 

‘Princess Arya,’ Gendry finally reached Sansa’s sister, taking her hand in his, earning a frown and a swat instead of a curtsy and sweet words. 

‘I’m no Princess or Lady,’ Arya’s words were curt, earning a smile for her effort. 

‘Of course, my Lady,’ Sansa would swear all this was some kind of game between them as Arya finally smiled and hugged Gendry tightly. They shared a kiss that had everyone gasp and whisper; Sansa with raised eyebrows and Jon looking downward, at the pups, the dirt beneath their feet, anything but the woman he considered his baby sister kissing a man senselessly. 

  
  
  


The feast was joyous, the Northerners and the Stormlanders drank and laughed, cheered for their rulers and danced in old Westerosi songs. Sansa was unable to dance, her condition would be shown if she moved around just in her dress, she preferred to remain seated, Jon  had given his seat to Gendry as the honorable guest of the Queen, Arya remained on her other side. Sansa felt invisible in the middle of the couple as her sister and Gendry many times locked gazes, engaged into a silent battle of stares and unspoken words while Sansa munched her mashed potatoes and roasted beef with an appetite for two. 

It was Jon who pulled Gendry from his trance as he started asking how the Storm Lands moved on after the ongoing wars. The conversation between the two men was easy, enjoyable. The Baratheon supporters had welcomed the final Baratheon as Stannis’ sacrifice of his own child had turned them all against the eldest Baratheon brother but his nephew had been accepted as a new, promising young Lord after years of the depressing order of Stannis. 

Jon was glad for the young man. He was an honest man, caring for his people, knowing how the poor people suffered. He and Jon had many things in common, bastards, raised high in the world, righted by different Queens but accepted by their own people all the same. In love with the only Stark women in the world, sharing the patience over their temper, their strong opinions and hard to break, composure. 

Going back to their roots, Gendry’s father had killed Jon’s, but two decades later, it was their sons who would move forward, separated by their fathers at a young age, unable to feel for them, unable to hold a grudge for the men they never got to meet. A Targaryen had fallen by a Baratheon, because of a Stark, now they were ready to move in unison, Targaryen, Baratheon and Stark, for the good of the kingdoms and their own. 

‘You’re happy?’ Sansa asked when she finished her second filling of mashed potatoes. Tapping her lips with her napkin. Arya had switched between glancing at Gendry and looking amused at her sister who ate like there was no tomorrow, yet somehow, like the proper Queen she was. 

‘I am,’ Arya only nodded and smiled, unable to hide. 

‘They say Storm’s End if beautiful, and you love journeying.’ Sansa spoke lightly, fishing her sister’s reaction, she didn’t disappoint. 

‘Yes, I guess.’ Arya tried to seem indifferent but Sansa reached and took her sister’s hand, tilting her head so she could speak only for Arya to hear her.

‘Life is small, you should be happy in it, Arya and you could always be visiting…’ Sansa offered with a small smile, Arya lowered her own head, looking down, for the first time in a very long time, Sansa saw the insecurity, the worry, the turmoil in her sister. 

‘I’m not a Lady, I’m not wife material.’ Arya muttered, Sansa smiled and nodded. There was a time when she was not such material herself, defiled, lost from all the dreams of that little girl. 

‘What material are you?’ Sansa asked gently and Arya sighed. ‘You’re a warrior, but the great Wars have ended. I’ll make sure of that.’ Sansa promised and Arya sighed. 

‘Sansa… I’m ….I’m your Mistress of Whisperers and your Shield.’ Arya tried, Sansa nodded, patting her sister’s hand. 

‘I have Jon as shield, and sword and armor…’ Sansa replied as both women looked at the men by their side. ‘And you can carry the whispers from wherever you are, that’s the best part with them.’ Sansa added and Arya shook her head. 

‘Another union between the North and South,’ Arya noted the strategy and Sansa shook her head this time. 

‘If you asked him to jump from the highest window of Storm’s End, he would. I need no alliance through marriage here…I have it, I only need to know you’re happy. I need to know you have someone in the world. That year on my own was the loneliest in my life, I don’t want the same for you.’ Sansa explained softly and saw Arya’s eyes softening, understanding. 

‘At the stormlands? No…’ Arya pondered out loud. Sansa smiled. 

‘Maybe half a year there, it’s as rainy and cold as Winterfell in Winter, during Summer, come here…’ Sansa tried and Arya snorted in disbelief as they talked about such an option. ‘You love each other. You’ll find a way…’ Sansa added teasingly but Arya sobered. 

‘They will be Baratheons,’ Arya’s words took Sansa aback but she recovered quickly as children was something she had never expected her sister to have even considered. She wondered if the thought came in mind because of her own pregnancy. 

‘They will be whatever you want them to be, Arya. Of that, I can also promise you.’ Sansa added and Arya shook her head but the tiniest of smiles returned to her lips. ‘After all… You do what honor demands… we all do.’ Sansa added and Arya this time reached for her sister’s hand. 

‘And what does honor demand?’ she asked softly and Sansa smiled. 

‘That we defend our family from those who’d harm us, that  _ we’d  _ defend the North from those who’d betray us. That we’d both make sure more Starks come into the world to take care of it when Winter will come again.’ Sansa replied, making Arya sigh in exasperation. 

‘You’re insufferable…’ Arya lashed out, softly, while she kept Sansa’s hand in her own, squeezing it lightly, giving in. Sansa chuckled and reached for her tea put in an ale cup as not to raise suspicion, she clicked it with Arya’s cup and drank. 

‘I know,’ she only replied as Arya huffed but was muted again as Gendry had turned to look at her. Sansa nodded to herself as she sipped her tea and winked at Jon from the middle of the two lovebirds. 

‘That would be the time for me to retire to my chambers. In the morrow, I have many petitions… and so many things to discuss concerning the North and Storm’s End.’ Sansa stood, causing everyone to stand. Gendry and Arya doing so automatically, still lost into each other, they didn’t seem to hear even one word from the Queen’s declaration. Jon was on his feet as well, always willing to escort her to her chambers, lock her in there and have his way with her. She couldn’t wait more herself to be back with him, her appetite for food could only be matched with her appetite for her husband. ‘My sweet sister, please do see to our royal guest’s... entertainment as I must retire…’ Sansa added and finally the younger couple turned and looked at her as if they just noticed they were standing before the Queen. 

‘Of course, my sister, I will try to follow your command.’ 

‘Thank you for the amazing feast, your Grace, have a good night.’ They spoke the words while they were lost in each other again, the tension was too much for anyone around them. 

‘I’m sure it will be good indeed.’ Sansa spoke, heard by Jon who wrapped an arm around her back and led her away from the high table and the couple that had remained standing while the rest of the people sat back down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, I needed Gendrya in my life and this fic and so did Sansa, not because of the political aspect of such union but because she wants the best for her sister, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thoughts? what should happen with Gendrya? how should they (if they had to) short out things between them?


	27. Nothing Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the new chapter, one I longed to write for months now, enjoy <3

Chapter Twenty Seven - Nothing Wrong

 

Sunlight was escaping through the drapes, caressing Jon’s skin as he opened his eyes, his face was half-buried in copper tresses of hair, his arm tightened around his wife as they slept on their sides. His hand moved to her belly, only to encounter a wet snout already there. He raised his head, looking groggily at his direwolf, his own pups were still asleep before the cold-by-now hearth, but Ghost was sat on the floor, on Sansa’s side, his head resting before her belly due to his size. 

‘That’s mine, yours are over there.’ Jon whispered as he patted the direwolf’s head. Ghost licked Jon’s hand, and Sansa’s belly, causing her to squirm and tun on her back in her simple nightgown, she had kicked away the furs, too warm for her liking in the past days. 

‘Ticklish,’ She grumbled in her sleep, causing Jon to smile as she draped an arm over her eyes, trying to conceal the sun from her eyes, her other arm moved where Jon’s was, stroking her belly in her sleep. She was changing, breathing more from her mouth in her sleep, hiccups after her meals, the lemon cakes cravings having him sneaking like a naughty child in the kitchens almost every night to steal one or two. Thankfully the cooks forgot them on the table, under a linen cloth, every night for him to find. The nausea had finally stopped, thank the Gods for that suffering to end, giving its place to sexual appetite and Jon would swear, she would be the end of him. Sansa was insatiable. 

It was almost five moons now, according the maester anyway, and Sansa looked bigger than he, Jon or Sansa herself had expected. That babe of theirs was going to be big as Brienne if it was a girl, or massive like Ned Stark if a boy. Jon smiled and scooted lower until his head was on her belly, planting a kiss on the fabric close to Sansa’s resting hand. 

‘You won’t be a secret for much longer. Mama will choose a midwife today. People already know and she can’t keep hiding, anyway, you’re massive, little one.’ Jon whispered, loving the idea of his child hearing him. ‘You were not planned but we’re both so happy to have you, everyone is. If it wasn’t for ya, we would be hiding forever. I hate hiding,’ Jon whispered again, his hand palming the bump, his eyes widened as he felt the tiny movement from within. He held his breath and stood still until he felt it again. This was the first time the baby kicked. ‘You’re kicking for me and not for Mama? Oh, she’s gonna be frustrated.’ Jon’s gruff voice was laced with joy as he kissed the belly again and again, causing Sansa’s hand to pat his cheek. 

‘Ticklish,’ she murmured and Jon couldn’t help but kiss her palm and then the belly again, his heart swelling in his chest for his wife and child. Sansa’s hand pushed him towards her hip, one eye picking open from under her forearm, a small smile on her lips. She was the epitome of beauty, sleepy oceanic eyes, wild hair everywhere, creamy thighs, pregnant belly, fuller breasts. She was the image of fertility and beauty. Jon grinned and moved down her body, kissing her hipbone, causing her to chuckle. ‘Ticklish…’ she complained again and Jon laughed and moved fully between her long legs, pooling her nightgown to her waist, exposing her lack of smallclothes. She recently grew to hate them, always too hot, too wet, always too uncomfortable and they were halfway to the pregnancy. He trailed kisses down the inside of her thigh, his beard brushing against the sensitive skin, over the old scars until he nuzzled his lips through her folds and placed a sure kiss on her bundle of nerves. The arm concealing her face rushed to take hold of the headboard as she moaned, body pushing against him, already wet and ready. 

‘Still ticklish?’ Jon asked against the auburn curls between her legs, not waiting for a response he relaunched, causing Sansa to gasp his name, the hand from her belly went to his own dark curls, fisting his hair gently for him to continue. 

And he did, until she was screaming his name, clutching at his hair, until he was claiming her lips, sharing her taste on their tongues, sliding inside her and groaning her name as she raised her legs around his own hips, allowing him deeper. There was comossion in the courtyard but so was there in their chambers. The direwolf pups were restless, hungry and playing, just like Jon and Sansa, no maid dared enter the place while the Queen and Warden were heard up to the Great Keep.

 There was a Royal Guest to keep company to but another Stark could take care of Gendry, just like Jon did with Sansa who couldn’t help but scream his name again as he thrust in deep strokes until he followed her into ecstasy. Both panted against each other as they came down from their heights. Jon loved when he used to be able to lay on top of her but that would have to wait, he collapsed next to Sansa, pulling her to him as she hooked her leg over his hip, her belly between them as they lay there, smiling sleepily at each other in their naked glory, their clothes discarded during their play. 

  
  
  


The commotion was made by the crowd around Winterfell welcoming back a local hero, a hero who stood by the Northerners when many Southerners didn’t. A small party of freefolk had reached the castle with Tormund leading the way. Greeting people he fought along, offering the strong ale he had brought as gift not only to the Queen and the Warden but to everyone. Until Sansa and Jon were reaching the courtyard in colors of grey and black to greet their friend after they had been informed of his arrival, Ghost and the pups tailing them. 

Tormund’s eyes widened as he saw the two Starks, rushing close and crushing Jon in a bear hug as his booming voice greeted them with delight. It had been almost a year ago and the reunion was joyous. Tormund released Jon to hug Sansa, the cloak on her shoulders prevented her from big movements, he engulfed her in his arms, his smiling eyes widening as he pulled her at arm’s length and looked at her in happy shock. 

‘So the rumours are true!’ the redhead man boomed, Sansa winced as the people around watched the encounter. 

‘It’s still a secret,’ Jon tried to salvage what was doomed as Turmund roared a laugh and gestured at Sansa. All political games and keeping secrets were made in vain before his happy honesty. 

‘What secret? Look at her! She’s heavy and glowing! And these?’ he gestured at the pups. ‘Pups around her, a Starkling inside her! Ha! Little Crow, you haven’t rested since you left!’ Tormund cried out in humor, Sansa blushed crimson as Tormund rushed to pat -or rather punch- Jon praisingly on the chest, causing him to hold the spot as he coughed a laugh. Sansa glanced at her people around the courtyard, there was no shock and no malice in their eyes, no sense of betrayal in the air, only happiness and awe, expectation and care. She had to let go of fearing the worst, her people loved them both and their child. 

‘You came all this way here to congratulate us? Wanna be the Godfather?’ Jon asked in humor, causing Tormund to frown and glance at Sansa again. 

‘What’s a Godfather?’ he asked seriously, obviously the word father ringing to his ears. ‘You Southerners and your stupid traditions.’ he cursed as he patted Jon on the shoulder again. ‘No need to explain, I will be the Godfather!’ he exclaimed easily, causing the Starks to laugh. ‘But now, I came because we need to talk, the Wall is melting, there are floods, the fortresses along  are crumbling. So is the Night’s Watch.’ Tormund explained and Jon and Sansa looked at each other. The last barrier between Forever Winter and Westeros was coming down, its magic broken the day the Night King broke through it with Viserion. Another reason to keep the dragons at bay in case of need. 

‘We’ll talk about it, I need the details.’ Jon explained to Tormund as another party entered the courtyard. There were old women on the horses, reaching Winterfell for Sansa. ‘We’ll talk during dinner tonight, you should all rest while we take care of these ladies over there.’ Jon added as the midwives dismounted while the stableboys rushed to help with all the added horses to the stables. 

  
  
  


‘Arya is keeping… company to Gendry.’ Jon informed Sansa uncomfortably, she chuckled and nodded as they moved towards the Great Keep for the audience, Maester Wolkan followed them along the pups and Ghost. 

‘I’m sure he’s entertained,’ Sansa only commented as they reached the room with the Northern throne placed in front of the large hearth. Sansa sat on her seat, Jon stood on her right, Ghost to her left while the pups remained close by. Maester Wolkan stood respectfully further back as protocol demanded. Sansa hadn’t worn her cloak, she felt like missing it but after Tormund’s greeting and while expecting a bunch of midwives, there was no reason left to pretend. Soon, there was an announcement and half a dozen old ladies entered the keep and stood respectfully before the Queen. There were the best midwives across the Northern kingdom, one looked more wrinkled than the other and Sansa was sure all together had the wisdom of all Maesters in Westeros, combined. They were rough women, that was clear, having helped women in the dead of winter, during the Battle for the Dawn and the Dragon Days as people remembered the short stay of Daenerys Targaryen in the North. 

‘I would like to thank you for answering the call, no matter my choice today, I’m grateful to you all for your service to the realm. While no one asked you to do such hard job and no one paid you enough, you -along others out there- have helped the Northern children come to the world. Always wandering and finding the ones in need of assistance.’ Sansa spoke softly to the women who looked at the Queen with smiles on their faces, one reminded her of Septa Mordane. 

‘Your Grace,’ the first midwife moved forward, smiling at both Sansa and Jon. ‘I’m honored to be summoned. My name is Ashley Gale, at your service.’ the woman spoke, dressed modestly up to the neck, her hair pinned in a bun at the base of her head. The woman seemed sweet, kind and understanding. Sansa smiled while she heard each introduce themselves, she couldn’t help but glance again and again at the one looking like her Septa for she wasn’t looking at Sansa’s face but her belly, examining from afar. Sansa felt uncomfortable and reassured at the same time as she guessed the older woman was doing her job than courtesies. 

‘I have delivered many girls, my Queen, and for all, I requested to be named Sansa if born healthy and strong.’ Cora Stanley was saying as Sansa tried to focus. She smiled and thanked the midwife with a smile, Jon placed his hand on Sansa’s shoulder in a gesture of affection. 

‘Robb had been a massive baby, caused your Mother to bleed for three days.’ the woman spoke, remembering the past, causing Sansa’s eyes to widen. ‘You were a quiet babe, Your Grace, all tired and tiny, the easiest labour I had to assist with.’ the woman Sansa was finally getting to meet, was saying, making her gasp at the information. ‘My name is Fina Blackwood and we met a long time ago, while I was cutting the cord separating you from your Lady Mother. The bells ran from dusk til dawn for you. Your Lord Father summoned me every time Catelyn Stark started showing. Arya had been a breech baby, of course; while Bran and Rickon came out screaming their heads off.’  Fina spoke, her complexion was hard, wrinkled skin, sharp, green eyes, white hair pulled back in a bun, small yet proudly standing. Sansa couldn’t help the tears running down her cheeks, her condition, the mention of her living and dead siblings, Fina felt motherly even if stern. Her gaze turned to Jon and she smiled reassuringly, somehow, she soothed both as she felt the most confident in the room among the other midwives, a maester who struggled so far and the young to-be parents. The decision had been made easily. 

The other midwives were dismissed with enough silver coins to pass Spring and enough food and drink for them and their horses, they were all welcome to stay and rest but all of them thanked the Queen and explained duty called for them. Fina was of the same opinion so now she was on Sansa’s side while the Queen showed her the way to her chambers for the first proper examination from someone who specialized. Sansa felt nervous, her hands moving to her belly as Jon opened the door and they entered the solar, along Maester Wolkan, Ghost and the pups. 

‘The direwolves I don’t mind, but are you comfortable with the men, sweetheart?’ Fina asked Sansa, all titles forgotten as they stepped into her realm. Sansa had no idea she had needed the endearment from an older woman, she had no idea how much she had missed the sweet words from someone like her mother and Septa. Fina’s words turned sharp as she looked at Jon and Wolkan while she waited for an answer from Sansa. She was sure the older woman would charge if ordered to. Sansa found the woman more and more appealing. 

‘I don’t mind them, the Maester should stay to record my health, even if you two will have councils laters. And I really need Jon here.’ Sansa explained, Maester Wolkan looked sore at the prospect of a meeting with the sharp woman but Jon’s eyes softened as he stepped closer and took her hand in his. Fina nodded her head, for a split moment she softened for Jon just like she had with Sansa. 

‘You were the only Stark child I didn’t get to deliver. If I had, maybe Lyanna would have survived.’ Fina spoke softly again and Jon sighed and nodded his head, maybe, if things had been different. The terror over Sansa’s wellbeing returned at the mention of his own mother but Fina spoke again as if she read his mind. ‘But i will make sure your wife will, no matter what, My Lord,’ she switched between stern and sweet, proper and informal in a whiplash, balancing propriety and compassion, Jon liked her too.  

Jon helped Sansa with her dress, like he had helped her to wear earlier that day, he was getting better with laces and ribbons. Sansa was left on her undershift. She moved close to Fina, nervous as the older woman took a measuring ribbon from her dress’ pocket and encircled Sansa around the belly to measure. She checked the sign on it and then glanced at Wolkan. 

‘Five Moons you said in your letter?’ she confirmed and he nodded his head. 

‘Give or take,’ the man spoke, Fina shook her head with a sigh, causing Sansa to frown. 

‘There’s something wrong?’ Sansa asked, her stomach dropping in fear. When the old woman looked up at the Queen she smiled brightly and cupped Sansa’s cheek. 

‘I need you to lay down on the bed so I can check if there is. No pain, no worry to fear, yes, dear?’ Sansa tried to keep it together as the woman didn’t confirm nor denied if there was a problem with the babe. She knew she was large but the baby was supposed to be big.  Sansa was certain, like the rest of the North, Fina must have known of Sansa’s torturing in the past, maybe there was something that had to do with that. Her body had suffered along her soul, maybe the baby was in danger from what Ramsay did to her and all the moontea she drank because of him and while she was with Jon. Guilt ate at Sansa’s heart as she circled her belly with her hands. She finally nodded and moved from the solar deeper in the chambers, where she lay on her side of the bed. Jon moved around the bed and sat on his own side to hold her hand while staying out of Fina’s way who moved on the side of the bed and lowered her hands on the belly, eyes closing as she lifted Sansa’s shift to touch the skin. The couple was muted, glancing at each other in fear as Fina felt Sansa’s belly methodically. 

She pressed down her palms in various places, she suddenly grasped Sansa on two places, causing her to gasp and Jon to jerk forward to swat the woman’s hands away but Fina only nodded her head and then moved her hands again and did the same on two different spots of Sansa’s belly. The Maester had touched her, mostly measuring, she and Jon himself caressed the belly, they had no idea a midwife could handle the baby like that. Fina opened her eyes and smiled at Sansa happily. 

‘As I suspected,’ Fina spoke softly.

‘Please, speak, is something wrong?’ Sansa croaked and Fina smiled and nodded, sitting next to Sansa on the edge of the bed and taking her hand in hers while she lowered the shift with the other. 

‘You’re massive, darling,’ Fina started calmly, Sansa didn’t care about getting fat at that point, she only wanted the child to be healthy. ‘Things would be wrong if there was only one baby in there.’ Fina’s words were fast, a blur. ‘But there are two, sweetling,’ Fina concluded, leaving the room in muted shock. 

_ The robust man and the tall, beautiful woman, the Stark direwolves looking at each other in the banner at King’s Landing.  _

‘T-two? Twins?’ Jon was the first to stammer the words and Fina nodded, looking at them as if they were all idiots. 

‘Oh come on, It was quite common for unions between Targaryens and non-Targaryens to result in twins. That is known.’ Fina spoke obviously and glanced between the people in the room. Her eyes fell on Maester Wolkan. ‘You and I need a long council regarding your knowledge on such matters.’ the midwife scolded the Maester for missing such critical change in the pregnancy. Fina’s eyes turned towards Jon. ‘You need to keep her rested, fed and happy, twins always come earlier than one babe. She’ll enter confinement in a moon from now so short out your priorities and state matters. I will need our sweetling here all to myself to prepare her for the labour, the first babe can be hard but two are going to be daunting.’ Fina explained as she finally looked at Sansa and rubbed her hand soothingly. 

‘Your babies are strong and growing in there.’ Fina reassured Sansa who tried to give a brave smile, she had said nothing, suddenly the fear of something going wrong sparked inside her heart, visions and prophesies aside, the future was a fragile thing, babies were fragile, women during labour were fragile. ‘I have delivered twins many times, in stables, in fields and caves. We’ll pull through and your children will be born healthy and you will long reign over us all and have more children. I promise you that, sweetheart.’ Fina’s words were smooth, warm but Sansa could only look at Jon who smiled at her and kissed her lips. ‘We should leave them be for awhile, two children are big news.’ Fina spoke sternly at Maester Wolkan who nodded and stumbled out of the chambers with her trotting proudly behind him, leaving Jon and Sansa in their privacy. 

‘Everything will be alright, she’s right, children have been born in caves and fields, you will have all the care in the world and it will be fine and soon we’ll be having our children in our arms, Robb and Aryanna Stark, Arya will be ecstatic with the news and the name and-’ Jon was babbling, trying to reassure Sansa and himself. 

‘Jon.’ Sansa cut him off with a smile as their hands moved to her belly and stayed there. ‘I know,’ she added and Jon nodded. ‘And even if something goes wrong, I know you’ll be there for the children and the realm and-’ Sansa tried but Jon shook his head before he could press a kiss to her forehead, then rested his own against hers. 

_ ‘Nothing  _ will happen to you.’ Jon promised, thinking of his mother again. ‘Nothing, all of you will be healthy and strong, I just know it,’ he was adamant, unyielding Northman, scared man to the bone over the course of something he had no power in. Sansa finally nodded, knowing she needed a plan for them all since Jon wouldn’t even listen. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWINS!!! we have the robust man and tall woman! I was researching all things Targaryen for the dragons and I also found that indeed, targs and non targs union often resulted to twins, which was perfect as I always wanted Sansa to have twins in this story and I got the perfect reason  
> I hope the small smut was good, I hope you liked Tormund's return and the news he bore, plus Fina is our new character here and she's going to be my spirit animal!  
> comments are love!!!! thank you for reading!


	28. The Queen's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the latest chapter, I wasn't sure where this was going so I let it go wherever it had to go itself.

Chapter  28 - The Queen’s Duty

 

‘You called for me?’ Arya asked while she entered the Queen’s -and the Warden’s; as of recently- rooms. Sansa was silently staring out of the window before she could turn and look at her sister, Sansa smiled at Arya who approached. It was so long ago when Arya had tested Sansa in these very same chambers, over Jon, over ruling and rules… Now it was time for Sansa to do the same, and just like back then, one sister wouldn’t fail the other.

‘Yes.’ she replied quietly as Arya reached Sansa and remained a breath away from her sister. Earlier that day, Jon had informed Arya about the twins while Sansa had remained with Fina to have all her questions answered. Sansa smiled at her youngest and only sibling around. 

‘The festivities have started, Tormund is already pissed from ale, Jon is trying to keep him... the maids are already spreading the news across Winterfell…’ Arya informed Sansa who smiled faintly and nodded, Arya frowned as she searched her sister’s eyes. 

‘You’re not happy?’ She asked softly and Sansa looked deep into her sister’s eyes before she could smile and engulf her belly with both arms. 

‘Twins,’ Sansa’s voice was harsh after so long without speaking, yet the joy, the adoration was right there, battling her turmoil. ‘Before, I thought my heart belonged to Jon, then I learnt of the baby and my heart became bigger in my chest…’ Sansa whispered. ‘It swelled like my belly, with love for the little one, my every breath is keeping it alive, every heartbeat is shared.’ Sansa went on. ‘And now they are two, my heart used to be a pulsing stone in my chest… after father… and mother and Robb and Rickon and Bran… But now it’s soft again, beating, filled with love for our family, for my children, Arya, my children.’ Sansa was almost talking to herself but she looked at Arya.  ‘Twins. Just like Bran showed me and Jon on our wedding night, through the Godswood. He knows so much, yet he speaks so little.’ Sansa reached for the small parchment at the window’s base, showing it to her sister. It had arrived that morning but Sansa had opened it after the audience with Fina. 

 

_ Dear Sansa _

 

_ As long as you are prosperous, the kingdoms will be as well. We shall meet soon. I am the past but you are the future.  _

 

_ The Wolves Will Come Again.  _

 

_ Your Brother _

 

_ Bran _

 

‘No crows fly around, he doesn’t have the power for it. I think this will be the last letter, yet, it’s just another riddle from a… being in our brother’s body, signing as our brother.’ Sansa sighed and looked back out of the window. ‘Jon is controlling the dragons by himself now, through Drogon...’ Sansa revealed and Arya nodded slowly as she looked at the small parchment. ‘The Kingdoms…’ Sansa whispered, repeating the word in the letter, tightening her arms around her belly, knowing Bran had led them to this. ‘Jon is able to govern both, in case something happens during labour…’ 

‘Nothing will happen-’ Arya tried but Sansa this time raised her hand to pause her sister, her eyes hardening, duty over everything else in her mind while her heart ached for her children and her own safety, fear gripping her at the idea of her children being motherless. Jon’s greatest fear was slowly sipping into her own heart. 

‘I’m the Queen, Arya, no matter the reassurance from you, and Jon and Fina… I need to short out things. ’ Sansa explained, Arya finally sighed but nodded. ‘Just in case,’ Sansa softened her words, eyes begging for her to be heard. She knew Jon would never simply sit and discuss possibilities. 

‘Alright, I’m listening,’ Arya gave in reluctantly, Sansa nodded. 

‘Worst case scenario...’ Sansa’s words had Arya biting down at her lip and her retort. ‘You shall be my Heiress.’ Sansa kept her voice steady as Arya’s eyes widened.  ‘We both know soon there will be a council in the South, that council will elect Jon most likely for King, combined with my loss, this will be too much for him but he will have to follow his birthright.’ Sansa faced the truth, knowing the path was being paved, they were already on it. ‘Here in the North, you will be my Heiress, based on the Act of Succession, if you ever have one, that child will be a Stark. Otherwise, a few years later, when you’re done dealing with all these Northmen and Jon is leading a life again, you can abdicate and pass him the North as well.’ Sansa explained and Arya was fighting the urge to argue. Sansa stared down at her younger, and shorter sister, keeping her silent to both women’s surprise.  ‘If neither you nor Jon have any children, my wish for the Northern Throne is to pass to the children of Robin Arryn, his union with Lady Manderly will keep the North and the Vale strong.’ Sansa spoke and Arya rolled her eyes and this time interjected. 

‘He hasn’t even replied to the prospect of marriage yet, Sansa.’ Arya complained, Sansa nodded her head towards her desk where a few scrolls lay opened. 

‘Apart from Bran’s scroll, there was also Robin’s, I’ll make sure the Wedding will take place right before I can enter confinement.’ Sansa revealed calmly and Arya sighed but nodded. ‘Now, if one child survives, girl or boy, that child will be my Heir or Heiress. If both survive, the first will take the North, no matter the sex, the second could lead of the South, if that stupid council idea remains. I don’t think there will be a better candidate from Aegon Targaryen’s child, these men are too close minded to pass the custom of birthright no matter how democratic they try to be..’ That way, the North and the South shall be peaceful for many years.’ Sansa added and Arya shook her head. 

‘Alright, can we go to the feast now? Most of it is your speculations after all.’ Arya tried to dismiss the conversation but Sansa only smiled dimly at her sister’s discomfort over her own death. 

‘We shall sign up all this tomorrow, Jon, you and I, as my will and testament. If everything goes well, we’ll destroy it, but if things go downhill -’

‘Sansa!’ Arya this time barked, fear creeping into the young woman’s eyes visibly. ‘Women have been birthing twins for thousands of years. 

‘Yet, I’m the first Queen in the North in all those thousands of years and I need at least this kingdom safe.’ Sansa added, Arya sighed, keeping silent for a moment. 

‘I hope your stupid plan will never be set in motion.’ Arya bit the words and Sansa smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not a lady and I don’t want to be a Queen.’ Arya’s words were fearful. ‘I have no idea how to do what you do for a mere hour, let alone for years…’ she added with admiration. ‘You’re the smartest person I know.’ Arya added affectionately. Sansa’s eyes watered. ‘Besides, I’ve decided the Stormlands and the North need an alliance…’ Arya’s words had Sansa hold her breath. ‘Through betrothal.’ this time, she looked hesitant at her sister’s shocked eyes. Sansa gasped as her hand flew to her sister’s shoulder. 

‘You have?’ she asked for confirmation, pulling Arya against her side for a hug as Arya hugged her sister tightly, Sansa was delighted. 

‘Yes… he wants to announce it tonight… he’s over the moon.’ Arya complained through a smile that had Sansa’s filling with tears. ‘Oh please, don’t do that.’ Arya begged awkwardly, Sansa laughed through her tears as she tried to take them away with her hand, sniffing and chuckling. 

‘I’m sorry, it’s just…’ Sansa couldn’t help it in her condition. Learning of the twins, knowing her people’s acceptance, calming Jon, then mirroring his fear, taking care of one and soon possibly two kingdoms, arranging things for everyone as if she was dying, because she very well could die, or lose her children during labour. Arya was choosing to build a life with Gendry… it was all too much.

‘Too soon, I know,’ Arya tried but Sansa shook her head and hugged Arya tighter, her belly preventing them from getting as close as they’d like but they wouldn’t have it any other way as Arya dared touch her sister’s belly for the first time, smiling up at her. 

‘Then, lets just hope my stupid plan will never come to happen.’ Sansa confirmed and Arya could only nod as she felt a tiny kick beneath her palm, awe filling her smiling eyes. 

‘Shocking isn’t it?’ Sansa whispered as Arya remained silent, chasing after the sensation that came again. ‘I think they’re waking,’ Sansa whispered, she had been trying to follow the movements, the pattern of them, Arya nodded her head frantically. 

‘I won’t leave for the Storm Islands until seven moons have passed from the birth.’ Arya promised and Sansa smiled and nodded, for the first time, cupping her sister’s cheek like their mother would. She needed her sister, for the labour, before and afterwards, she wouldn’t be able to do any of it if Jon and Arya weren’t there. The final phase of the game was approaching. 

  
  
  
  
  


‘The Father of the Twins!’ The Brother-In-Law! The Godfather!’ Tormund was bellowing with a massive horn in his hand as every Northman drank for Jon, Gendry and himself respectively. 

The atmosphere was joyous as Sansa and Arya entered the Great Hall, having everyone raising their glasses and cheering. With Tormund there, there was no reason for Sansa to wear her cloak anymore. Everyone clapped and urged on as Jon reached for Sansa quickly, helping her to her seat. She smiled and to reward everyone for their trust and love, leaned in and kissed Jon on the cheek. The sign of affection having the Hall erupting with happiness as Gendry too, reached for Arya, she didn’t grand him the same sign of affection, only a smile he returned shyly. Tormund clapped enthusiastically. 

‘Only if the Big Woman were here, we’d be complete…’ he mused and then drank more and punched his chest in his effort not to throw up. 

Sansa and Jon sat down as Tormund kept laughing, declaring himself the Godfather, still without an idea of what the position entitled. Sansa leaned closer to Jon and he leaned closer still. She searched his eyes and he nodded before he could speak. 

‘We talked, the Wall is melting, soon it will be crumbling down.’ Jon spoke quietly, Tormund was too drunk, Gendry too happy and Arya too frustrated, Jon and Sansa had their privacy. Sansa sighed but nodded, she knew Jon would be able to have all the information before their friend was lost to alcohol for the night and in no mood to discuss anything but his “gods-given right to be a Godfather” as he was declaring. ‘We need to take everyone away, if it collapses, people will be killed.’ Jon added and Sansa nodded. 

‘We will, after the ice has melted, there will be enough water for all that barren land to get a chance to be fertile again.’ Sansa whispered, thinking of the channels dug at her command. ‘Queenscrown should be the new trading post. Now that the border between the North and whatever lays beyond will fall. The outposts will turn into ruin if the Wall collapses on them, they already have after the Long Night.’ Sansa observed as quietly and Jon nodded. ‘Castle Black will be destroyed.’ Sansa added and the two looked at each other deep in the eyes, the place they reunited twice, the place Sansa felt safety again, the place Jon was killed and revived, exiled and restored. 

‘The ruins should remain as borderline. Sansascrown should be the trading post indeed.’ Jon’s words were sure, using the newest name the people gave to the small town. ‘And the Night’s Watch…’ he added and Sansa nodded as she sipped from Jon’s ale, just a small taste.

‘Should be disbanded…’ Sansa whispered and Jon sighed, unable to hide his discomfort. ‘It has declined anyway. An army of bastards and outcasts in a world where I’m trying to restore all bastards and after so many wars, even outcast men are needed to defend the people and father children…I prefer to aid them as fathers rather than a declining force of men in ruins of castles. They need to come back and readjust in society. We need Summer children, and autumn children, before Winter comes again.’ Sansa spoke the truth, even to Jon’s dismay, her words were right. ‘Besides,’ Sansa added as she caressed her belly. ‘You’re the shield that guards the realm of men, Jon.’ Sansa’s words were soft, he would trust him with the dragons, as promised, and he would prove their purpose and worth, as he promised. ‘You have the Dragons, that makes your position all the more important.’ Sansa added, pointing to Jon’s own words over why the Dragons should live. Jon nodded and took a sip from his ale. 

‘We should have it all formally signed..’ Jon spoke, no remorse before the plan they had decided to lay before them, certain choices would be hard, yet they would be the ones that established their children’s safety. Hard choices, easy choices, they had reclaimed Winterfell, they had ruled the North, now it's time to fix everything before the game came out of hand. 

‘Tomorrow, along the Betrothal.’ Sansa offered, her chin pointing towards Gendry and Arya who were almost swatting at each other’s shoulders. ‘And my Will and Testament.’ Sansa added and Jon was ready to complain but Sansa silenced him with a kiss. ‘Stop complaining over things you can’t change, I stopped doing so a long time ago and things went better than expected or feared.’ Sansa whispered when the kiss was broken, the sound of cheering was on the background, along Tormund’s words of more children right after the twins. 

‘You’re right.’ Jon gave in, his voice gruff. He knew of Sansa’s plans for succession, he hated everything that had to do with a world without her but he knew the will was necessary, in case she met his mother’s fate. His heart sank at the idea of those blue eyes closing forever, because of their children, because of him.   

‘I know,’ Sansa whispered back, she was speaking of both his turmoil and his confession on her being right. 

‘Nothing will happen.’ Jon reassured both of them. 

‘I know,’ Sansa replied as confidently, in a rare moment of shared calm. 

‘Fina will kill me if she finds out I’m keeping you among those drunks.’ Jon added with a smile and Sansa laughed. 

‘I know.’ she added with a chuckle and Jon grinned. 

‘She will kill me if she sees you drinking from my ale.’ he added with a smile, his hand caressing her cheek, his other hand on the cup of ale, taking it away before he could stroke her belly. 

‘I know…’ she added as she let go of the cup with a smile, she never liked ale anyway.

‘And yet you don’t want us to retire so I can massage your feet and take care of all your needs?’ Jon asked and Sansa smirked, leaning closer. 

‘A lemon cake, maybe?’ she asked innocently and Jon grinned and nodded. 

‘Your need and order is my command, sweet love,’ Jon promised, Sansa smiled sweetly.

‘What if I’m in need of your cock too, dear husband?’ Sansa asked in a whisper only for him to hear, coaxing a groan from Jon that mostly sounded like a croak as he lowered his forehead on her shoulder, his lips licking at the column of her neck, ,making her gasp. 

‘Come on, up, you’re tired.’ Jon urged as he stood and helped Sansa on her feet, never paying attention at the whistles and shouts behind them, or Tormund throwing up in celebration. 

  
  
  
  


The council was gathered, waiting for the Queen to enter the room of the meeting. Everyone had been informed of the matters the Queen would take care of and soon they were all raising from their seats as the doors opened and revealed Sansa walking in her dress. Her belly more than evident in her light grey gown, she walked freely, no more hiding, only acceptance of it all. Jon was the one who pulled the chair for her to sit, Arya and Gendry by her side. 

There were talks over the details of the unions of Arryn and Manderly, Sansa signed her approval that would be sent both to the Vale and to White Harbor. She informed everyone she would want Lady Glover married with Lord Hardying, another union beneficial for them all. She then allowed Arya to set her timeline for the betrothal between the Stormlands and the North. 

Seven moons after the birth, Arya would sail for the Stormlands, in a formal delegation. She’d stay there until the first signs of Autumn, then she’d come back North, and when Winter would come, she’d go back to the Stormlands, then, the wedding would be announced. Sansa knew Arya hoped for equally long Summer and Autumn. Then it was time for her will and even if Jon seemed gravely ill, he quickly signed the details of succession in case of need, along Arya and Sansa who also stamped it with her royal seal. The council was dismissed with Jon and Sansa left behind. 

‘I think Bran is dying.’ Sansa tried to pull Jon’s attention, even with an equally grave update. Jon nodded slowly, his eyes still on the drying ink of the Will and Testament of the Queen in the North, on the table before them. 

‘I can’t see him anymore, I can find the dragons, I can lead them but I can’t see Bran anywhere.’ Jon confirmed and Sansa sighed. 

‘Tyrion had told me Bran struggled with the dragon magic, I think the moment we’ll have to go South, Meera should come with us, she once was very close to him.’ Sansa mused and Jon sighed and nodded, his hand reaching her belly, his fingers smudged with ink. 

‘I felt like signing your death sentence today.’ Jon whispered, causing Sansa to suppress a sigh. 

‘Chances are with me, Jon, I don’t think there will be need of the Will to take effect.’ Sansa tried to soothe her husband and cousin. ‘But the South wants you… the North loves you… Jon, soon we’ll have to make the hard choices we had spoken of…’ Sansa whispered and Jon nodded, knowing. They both did, the South disliked the ruined, crippled king, he felt too similar to the kingdom itself while the North turned fertile and active like its Queen and Warden. ‘No matter what happens to me, you will soon be called upon from the South. If-- after everything is finished with the birth, we’ll have to face that call and what will mean for us.’ Sansa added and Jon sighed but nodded. 

‘All I want if for us is to stay here, with our children, our sons or daughters, I just…All I cared about was the North and it found its rightful ruler.’ Jon was honest, smiling and Sansa didn’t have the reflex to deny it anymore, she was the Key to the North, she was the Queen, she deserved her crown. 

‘I know, but if we must lead of the rest, if you have to lead of the rest, of the South, you will, because you’re honorable, you’re caring and those poor people in the South deserve better, they deserve a chance and-’ Sansa paused as Jon nodded his head, his hand still on her belly. 

‘I need to make up to them, of all the wars, of all the kings and conquerors, I was the one who marched South and aided the worst of them all.’ Jon added and Sansa closed her lips at the bare truth in his words. 

‘I was going to say that’s what honor demands, but yes, they deserve something better than all the fire and blood they have faced so far, not only from Targaryens but all idiots who had them bleed. The North is safe but the South needs help.’ Sansa added and Jon nodded, this time sinking closer as Sansa turned on her seat to face him. 

‘Thanks to you,’ Jon whispered but Sansa shook her head. 

‘Thanks to you and your fight against the Wrights. Thanks to me and the Knights of the Vale. Thanks to you for sparing the sons of our traitors, the sons who now stand more loyal to us than ever… thanks to both of us, as King and Queen, we took care of our people and now they take care of us.’ Sansa whispered fairly, lowering her face towards Jon’s, kissing his lips. 

‘The North is part of me, and the North is yours ever since I left for Dragonstone. No matter where I will have to go after Bran…. You and the babies and the North will be with me,’ Jon was desperate at the prospect of ruling all Seven Kingdoms, the ways they’d have to live, for a throne he never wanted, for a throne that didn’t exist anymore. He had never asked for a crown yet he had already worn the Northern crown and now he was to wear the Southern. 

‘We’ll find a way, I promise, the priority now are the babies. I want you to take care of everything while I enter confinement.’ Sansa added and Jon sighed. 

‘I don’t want you to think I’m taking over your place.’ Jon was gentle, he knew how to run the North while she rested before and after the birth of their children, but she had bled and suffered for their kingdom as much as he had, she deserved her crown. 

‘I’m not Daenerys, Jon…’ Sansa whispered and the name didn’t sting for neither of them as much as it used to.  ‘I don’t feel competitive before you… our people know they have a Queen, and they know they have a Warden, soon they will have our heirs. I need you to focus on the kingdom while I focus on the delivery.’ Sansa added, causing Jon and to smile and nod his head, his worries eased at last. Daenerys had commanded, dominated, threatened and harassed him, he had told Sansa all about it, the mad need for power. Sansa was different, she had been through the same by Cersei, she would never become like the monsters she had survived.

‘You want to be with me during the labour?’ Sansa asked, pulling Jon out of his musings, he looked at her in surprise. Men usually remained away, too afraid and alien to the process, but Sansa had a feeling Jon was different. 

‘I’m allowed?’ he asked in surprise and Sansa chuckled.

‘No, but I need to know your intention, if you’d want to be, I should start begging Fina right away if we want a chance of you being there.’ Sansa added and Jon considered her words for a few moments. The birth of his children, he’d be able to see them come into the world, he’d be able to support Sansa, try console her pain, see if things went wrong. He could be the first to hug their babies, he would hold Sansa’s hand and help her with whatever she could need. He prefered to bare witness of the pain and be useful if needed rather than stay away and listen to Sansa’s scream through the castle. Even the idea seemed torturous, away from her while se old be in so much pain.

‘-Ys, I’d like to be there, if Fina would allow it.’ Jon spoke gently and Sansa smiled, breathing in relief. 

‘Good, I feel… I need you there.’ Sansa confessed, causing Jon to smile, feeling welcome and needed already for e labour, although he guessed he’d just sit there shocked and afraid of what Sansa was to go through. 

‘I hope it won’t be too painful,’ Jon tried to soothe her, Sansa laughed, despite the nerves concerning the sitation, they allowed their moods to change. 

‘Oh I think it will be torture, but I’m ready. After all, we’ve spoken of five children at least.’ Sansa added, paving the path for more, filling Jon’s heart with hope over her wellbeing but also a picture of their family further in the future. 

Robb, Aryana, Ned, Rickon and little Margery, Jon wanted them all and so did Sansa. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot of romance, mostly pol sansa and the things she had to take care since she's a queen, YES Arya accepted, even if it's going to take awhile for her to settle with Gendry and YES we have weddings and more trust between jonsa, the babies are coming and we like it or not, I don't think Sansa would let anything on chance so this chapter was needed, I hope you enjoyed arya sansa, the GODFATHER and our sweet jonsa moving forward together <3 how far they have reached from the first chaps I was reading a few days ago <3


	29. A Brave New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here are the chaps I had been dreaming since last years when I started this fic, it's been almost ten months already but here we are, I wanted this chap to have a little bit of everything.

Chapter 29  - A Brave New World

 

_ ‘One day, your husband will sit there, and you will sit by his side.’ her Septa’s words were confident, proud. The sunlit room turning darker, ashes falling from its open ceiling as Sansa turned to her side, her Septa wasn’t with her, with every step, Sansa’s belly turned rounder and bigger, heavy with her children, the heirs of the North and the South. _

_ Sansa was walking towards the Iron Throne, half melted, diformed. Jon was upon its ruins, Aegon Targaryen, Drogon’s screech echoed from outside. The Throne Chamber was almost completely dark with every step, closing in. Sansa did her best to reach the steps leading to her husband. Her belly was massive, the babies moving within, they were uneasy, no more room for them in their mother’s womb, any day now. Jon was solemn, yet extending a hand for her as she climbed the stairs, she was dressed in grey and blue while he was dressed in black and red.  _

_ ‘Sweet Love,’ voice gruff, tired, the endearment a wound on his tongue. ‘You were right, the South is not for wolves.’ Jon’s words were sober, exhausted. ‘We’ve been betrayed.’ there was no time for Sansa to react at his words as arms were wrapping around her neck, snapping her spine backwards. A faceless figure showed up from behind the throne, seething a knife into Jon’s heart, his lips sputtering black blood. ‘Sansa…’ his voice was distant, pained, scared.  Sansa cried out, an armed hand with a dagger from behind her, the blade sinking into her belly, again and again while Drogon broke through the large windows, struggling to devour the enemies but a scorpion’s bolt struck the beast from the side of its head, all the way til the bolt came out through the skull, bathing everyone in its hot blood. Sansa screamed.  _

‘Wake up, it’s a dream, Sans, wake up,’ Jon was begging on his knees, Sansa seethed and squirmed until she woke up with a gasp, her hair clinging on her face as Jon pulled her in his arms. She sobbed and frowned as a dull pain kicked at her lower abdomen, her hand flying to the spot. ‘It was a nightmare, it’s over.’ Jon tried to reassure her as Sansa took a deep breath, Jon’s hands taking away the tears, kissing her cheeks, he noticed her hand at her belly, the frown on her face, the fear in her eyes flickering for a moment, not for the nightmare but for reality. 

‘Fina?’ he asked but Sansa shook her head. 

‘I’m alright, I just- need a moment,.’ Sansa whispered, grasping Jon’s arms that were already around her as he reached for a pillow to support her waist as she tried to catch her breath. Jon hugged her tighter, still unconvinced. 

‘You’re too stressed, the wedding should have waited until after the labour.’ Jon complained softly but Sansa shook her head. 

‘Robin and Winafryd must get married, the North and the South need to be united.’ Sansa had demanded for the wedding to take place the soonest, and it would, later that day in the small sept her father had built for her mother. Bran was sick, sicker with every day that passed, they needed the union before it was too late. 

‘They are united,’ Jon only whispered and Sansa knew, he meant because of the two of them. But they were not openly uniting the kingdoms, the Northern Lords would revolt, the Southern council still had its King, no matter how passive and unpopular Bran was becoming because of his absence. For now at least, Sansa and Jon were only the Queen and the Warden of the North. 

The moonturn between Sansa’s Will and the day of the wedding had passed in a haze of people arriving to Winterfell for the first official union between the Independent North and the Six Kingdoms. Tyrion and Davos were among the first arriving, representing Bran who was “unable to attend but delighted by the union” as Tyrion had informed the court, to everyone’s disbelief. Lords and Ladies from Dorne, the Crowlands and the Reach had also arrived, Gendry had remained as a royal guest ever since his betrothal with Arya. Only the Iron Islands hadn’t sent deputation as rumor had it, Yara Greyjoy wasn’t happy with the turn of events, yet no one was surprised, the Iron Islands always had a tendency to revolt and create problems, for now, they remained Bran’s problem as he was still the King of the Six Kingdoms. For the rest of Westeros, this wedding was the first happy occasion after the Mad Queen’s Conquest and Winterfell had made sure everyone attending would have a tale to tell for moons to come. 

Robin and Winafryd both busked at the attention and at each other’s presence as Robin had arrived in all his glory, three weeks ago. The Manderlys were happy for the union, Robin Arryn was powerful, with an army, handsome and easily manipulated. Lord Royce was also happy, Winafryd was the granddaughter of the richest Northern Lord, smart enough but not commanding. The Manderlys and the Vale would find their balances under the Queen’s blessing and in the duration, the Riverlands and the North would become the powerful link Sansa needed for the trade between the kingdoms to flourish.  The Queen in the North had promised to facilitate the wedding herself in the small Sept. White Harbor might had been better, the sept of the Seven there was larger, but Sansa was in no shape to travel and to her command, everyone gathered around Winterfell where she needed them all. Winterfell burst with activity and anticipation and the Manderlys had made sure financially for every night to be a feast for everyone, to Sansa’s delight. 

 It was a glorious chance for every Lord and Lady from the South and the North not only to familiarize with the Queen and the union she had orchestrated, the notion of more unions as such from her were appealing for the rest of the Six Kingdoms that struggled to balance the powersets of the remaining Houses. It was also a chance for everyone to get used to the return of Jon Snow- restored as Jon Stark; whispered as Aegon Targaryen- and the Queen’s marriage to him. A union that was about to give fruit as Sansa would enter confinement after the end of the wedding feast. 

Sansa exhaled a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as the dull pain in her lower abdomen ceased. Jon felt her relaxing in his arms and pressed a kiss on her forehead. 

‘You should lay down, we still have time.’ Jon tried but Sansa was already shaking her head, trying to stand but Jon held her where she sat. ‘Sansa…’ he tried but Sansa only smiled at him encouragingly. 

‘The wedding is in a few hours, Jon, there are so many things that need to be done and-’ Sansa sighed, she hated when her weaknesses got the better of her strategies. ‘I feel like I’m selling Winafryd to Robin, and Robin to her,’ Sansa added but Jon this time smiled at her. 

‘Have you seen them around each other? They are absolutely  _ enchanted  _ with one another. I think it’s a relief for them they didn’t get to marry us.’ Jon offered with a chuckle, shared by his wife. 

‘Still, I’d like to speak with the girl, she was a good lady in waiting for the past moons, it’s my duty.’ Sansa offered and Jon sighed. 

‘At least let me get Fina to check on you,’ Jon tried in vain as Sansa finally stole a kiss from his lips and stood with effort due to her massive belly. 

‘It was because of the nightmare,’ Sansa reassured, dismissing the rough patch on which she woke up, or the whisper of a tightening at the lower part of her belly, the babies were pressing on all her organs, she had trouble breathing, eating, digesting and sleeping, yet she had at least four more weeks, until the next full moon. ‘If I need her, I’ll fetch her, don’t worry, it’s her free day and I must be around, last day as Queen, then I will rest, I promise.’ Sansa reassured as Jon too stood and approached his changing wife. Soon, the rest of her maids would join them to help the Queen with her royal dress the seamstress had made for the special day along the bride’s gown. Jon wrapped his arms around his wife, kissed her shoulder, his hands on her belly and back. 

‘Just don’t overtire yourself, please, we’re hours away from you entering confinement.’ Jon begged, looking deep into his wife’s blue eyes. Sansa nodded, indeed, she had been through exhausting days. She had made sure every royal guest was comfortable in the renovated castle of Winterfell, she had made sure everyone was fed and taken care of without emptying the storages even if they burst with fruit and grain. The kitchens worked day and night, she took care of everything as Lady of the Castle and as Queen, she supervised new trade deals and courting between Lords and Ladies across Westeros that bloomed under her roof. She tried to keep everyone happy during the days, made sure her political allies remained as such in the evenings, listened to the whispers every night. Tyrion and Davos had informed her, verifying her suspicions of Bran’s ill condition. He was drifting off reality with every passing day, as his attempt to teach Jon through the Targaryen magical blood had left him poisoned in his own magic. Sam had no way to help him, Brienne had made sure the Kingsguard was larger than ever as the remaining people in the struggling city of King’s Landing were unhappy with the misery that spread over their kingdoms. There were whispers of the Master of Coin unable to fund all that had to be done to restore the city and boost the war-ravaged land around it. Highgarden was struggling to cope and soon the South might have to borrow from the Iron Bank again, the Bank was suspicious enough, their last investment in Cersei Lannister had led to a debt unpaid, debt passed to the new King. 

Sansa’s stomach dropped every time she thought of the things they would have to deal with, if the council indeed took place and Jon was elected. It had been almost two years since his return, people called him by the name given by his mother more every day. Sansa couldn’t see anyone else coming up through the Lords and Ladies of the South as a candidate good enough to be elected. Sansa was afraid she would have Six more Kingdoms to take care of before her children could stop breastfeeding. 

Jon could see the turmoil in Sansa’s eyes, the worries and fears, but he could also see the determination. After so much blood, so much death, they were close to finishing the game without a drop more spent. He was aware of the true reason for Tyrion and Davos’ early arrival. Tyrion Lannister was known for his role as Hand and advisor, he stood as long as it served him, then he abandoned the ruler he once believed in and searched for the next. And even if Jon had felt happy at Davos’ sight, he wasn’t a fool, he knew both men had reached Winterfell to prepare the ground for what Jon had readied himself for months. 

_ ‘You were exactly where you were supposed to be.’  _ Bran had told him when he departed for the Wall. It had been all Bran’s masterplan, to give time to everyone, to sacrifice himself for Jon’s return and ability to tame the Dragons, for Sansa to heal and prepare the North, learn how to actually rule before they could both take care of the South as well. 

Technicalities remained but Jon knew, the time was approaching, the time of Wolves. He hadn’t wanted a crown, a throne, only crowns and thrones had been given to him time and time again, beyond the Wall, of the North and the South, he couldn’t avoid his fate, enough damage had been done while he tried to. 

Unworthy kings and mad queens had taken over the kingdoms he deserved by his infamous birthright. His parents had torn apart the continent, already savaged by the Mad King, many had come afterwards, tearing each thread that held dignity and peace for Westeros. But after an entire year with Sansa reigning, he could see the people deserved someone able, someone better, her, him, them together, technicalities. People needed peace and prosperity and it was always in his interest to give these things. He would be Jon Snow, Jon Stark, Aegon Targaryen, whoever the people needed to believe in, whoever his kingdoms wanted to accept to help them stand on their own feet. Jon and Sansa wouldn’t make the same mistake everyone before them did. Kings and Queens fought to remain on the throne for themselves. Jon and Sansa would make sure the kingdoms would prosper for their children to reign peacefully, they would both abdicate the moment their children were ready to take control. 

In the nights, Sansa and Jon spoke of their plan, in hushed whispers, low voices and hands caressing the babies inside Sansa’s belly. There had been plans for the South and the North and they would be revealed the moment that was right. But not yet, now it was time for people to see and accept their future rulers across the continent, the new rules from the couple would come in time. 

Jon changed quickly into his best clothes laid out for that day, black and grey.. Sansa helped him with his hair in the bun he was used on wearing the past years, Sansa smiled at him when he was ready. 

‘Very handsome,’ Sansa commented as Jon lowered before her to kiss her large belly. They wouldn’t be alone until late in the night. Sansa’s belly was large and heavy, the babies growing fast within her. She looked beautiful in her shift and wild hair. 

‘I’ll miss you,’ he whispered and Sansa sighed and caressed his bearded cheek. 

‘We’ll miss you too, but the day will fly away.’ Sansa promised, Jon nodded and planted a kiss on each side of her belly, hoping he was giving his children a kiss each. 

The maids knocked on the door and rushed inside after Sansa replied. Jon smiled as they buzzed around the Queen while he stood on his feet and exited the chamber, allowing Sansa to get ready and break fast quickly in her chambers before she could go attend the bride as custom had it while he was to break fast with the Lords and Ladies of Westeros. 

He reached the Great Hall and everyone stood in respect. Tyrion and Davos were already there, at the high table as honored guests and correspondents to the Warden of the North.

‘My Lords,’ Jon offered politely as he sat next to Sansa’s empty chair. Everyone sat down after him. Tyrion was on his other side, Davos too. 

‘How’s the Queen, my Lord?’ Davos asked with genuine interest as they continued their meal while Jon filled his own plate with bread and eggs. 

‘Busy with the wedding, a big moment for her sweet cousin and Lady Manderly.’ Jon offered diplomatically, Tyrion nodded as he glanced up at Jon after he looked at Davos. 

‘And then she’s entering confinement.’ Tyrion confirmed, Jon didn’t like his tone. ‘Leaving you at her spot, as the Warden of course.’ Jon wondered for a moment if Tyrion was actually jealous of Jon being Sansa’s third husband and father of her children. ‘Good practice, I say.’ he added when Jon preferred to let the notion pass. His brows creased at the words. 

‘Practice for what, may I ask?’ they remained formal but their voices were low, only Davos heard them with a frown on his face, familiar with Tyrion’s plan, Jon could see it in his eyes. 

‘Practice for ruling. Sansa is an excellent Queen, no one swayed when you returned, restored and empowered but…’ Tyrion tried and Jon glared at him. 

‘But what?’ he cut to the chase this time. Tyrion shrugged and took some of his ale with his breakfast. 

‘But she will soon be the mother of two. More responsibilities should pass to the Warden for her to raise two future rulers unphased by trivial royal duties at least.’ 

‘The Queen in the North is more than capable of ruling and raising her children. She’s been taking care of tens of illegitimate and orphan children already.’ Jon’s words were curt, no room for argument there. 

 ‘And what if her domain grew bigger?’ Tyrion asked, seemingly unaffected by Jon’s words. ‘What if, through Unions such as the one she created between the Vale and the Manderys, the one she wants to create between the Stormlands and the North… and the one between Lady Glover and Harry Hardying… what if all those unions give her power over the South too? Would you share then? In ruling and reigning?’ Tyrion asked, geniously interested. Jon laid back in his chair, his eyes always on the man who had manipulated him to murder Daenerys Targaryen by mentioning Sansa, the man who had brought and counciled Daenerys to Westeros in the first place. 

‘The Six Kingdoms have a King as far as I know. My dear cousin, Bran the Broken. And it was you who initiated his reign, while knowing who I was and what we had done for the realms.’ Jon reminded Tyrion who solemnly nodded and drank more of his ale. ‘If Bran is not suiting your interest or plans, Lord Tyrion, then you certainly speak of treason in his sister’s castle, filling his cousin’s ears with plots and schemes.’ Jon added, sending a warning glance at Davos who was ready to speak. ‘Otherwise, you’re the worst Hand that ever existed.’ he added and Tyrion this time chuckled bitterly. 

‘It was Bran who asked me to come and find Sansa, to bring you back. It was Bran who withered and now is dying for you to learn to tame Drogon. It’s Bran who wants you to be who you really are.’ Tyrion finally stopped pretending and jumping around the subject. He had no idea, Jon could see it, he had no idea the young Stark needed no persuading. But Jon enjoyed the moment, Sansa would be proud as Tyrion came bare to his intentions of jumping ship once again, reaching the new establishment. 

‘And it is Bran who will die and the Great Council that will decide who should be the next King.’ Jon offered diplomatically, playing oblivious at the dwarf’s frustrated face. 

‘And it’s a Council full of people related or friendly to the Starks.’ Tyrion retorted, it was the truth, apart from Yara Greyjoy and the indifferent prince from Dorne -who had sent his gifts to Sansa nonetheless- the rest were related to the Starks, and Sansa especially through her Tully blood and her position as Lady of Winterfell. 

‘Then maybe, Sansa will become Queen of the Six Kingdoms, voted by her family.’ Jon challenged and Turion rolled his eyes. 

‘She will be only a guest at the Council, to meet her correspondent, she won’t have a vote or a say on who is going to be the next King of the Six Kingdoms.’ Tyrion challenged back and Jon this time chuckled bitterly. 

‘And yet people can vote for her even without her vote cast. That’s what you decided.’ Jon tried again, Tyrion sighed. 

‘She’s a good Queen, fair and honorable. But she doesn’t command dragons.’ Tyrion tried to reason with Jon who enjoyed the moment immensely. ‘Nor carry a linage that connects the ancient houses of Stark and Targaryen. She helped in Daenerys’ downfall but she didn’t kill the tyrant. And it was because of Sansa we know of your true identity. Someone better, she had told me and she had been right.  And people remember and want you as their ruler, they saw you fighting and winning, they know you saved them from the dead at great cost. They know you stopped the madness.’ Tyrion was opening up but Jon decided to remain on Sansa. 

‘No, she does not command dragons, you have a thing over queens who command dragons, haven’t you?’ Jon asked darkly. ‘You try to be with the greatest force, I don’t blame you, but the dragons will remain idle, away, until at least one generation has healed from what we provoked in King’s Landing.’ Jon’s voice was dark, clear on intent. ‘The old world is dying and a brave new world is being born. Whoever cannot adjust to it, will die, that I can promise you.’ Jon added before he could stand up, he had lost his appetite. ‘What I had told you almost a year ago, still stands, Tyrion.’ Jon’s words had the dwarf looking up at him. ‘I don’t trust you.’ 

 

 

Sansa had bit down on her lip while the maids were helping her dress while another wave of pain had hit her. She had not dared utter a word, the girls would send for Fina and Fina would bar her in her chambers. Two children were inside her and every day she woke up, more pains swellings and discomfort fell upon her body. This was normal, this was alright, she would be resting by the end of the night, she promised her self as she took a deep breath while experiencing the same pain.

Winafryd’s chambers were just a few feet away, the maids sent by Sansa already flocked around the bride to be ready while Sansa had taken a moment for herself in her own chambers. As she had moved down the corridors, she had felt the third wave hitting her, she would swear it was harder than the last but she couldn’t help but brace it. One hand on the wall by her side, the other on her belly, she breathed in and out, willing the pain away. This was nothing, no blood, no water broken, no nothing, just pain, every once in awhile. It must had been the nightmare that wracked her. A Wedding and herself pregnant, she knew of the way her brother’s wedding had ended at the Twins, she knew what had become of his pregnant wife. It was just her mind and soul playing tricks on her, old ghosts coming back to haunt her. Pregnancies were hard, especially when you had a kingdom to run while at it. 

Sansa pushed away from the wall, straightening her back as she took the few more steps towards the chambers of the bride and knocked, immediately answered by Lady Glover as they all expected the Queen. Winafryd was beautiful, dressed in white rich fabrics, her hair in the northern style and her eyes full of joy for her match. The manderlys had made sure the fabric traders would bring the best for the Queen and the Bride. The Ladies bowed to the Queen and left the two women alone, as protocol demanded, one of her Ladies in Waiting was getting married. It was the Queen’s duty to send her off as big sister or mother would do, although the two women weren’t so far away in age. 

‘You look radiant, Your Grace,’ Winafryd was the most courteous of her ladies and Sansa smiled and then laughed as she sat down with difficulty before the bride could approach her and sit after Sansa gestured. 

‘I look massive although your family made sure I would be dressed regally.’ Sansa attempted humor although she could see Winafryd’s worry and nervousness. Sansa reached and took the girl’s hand, wishing with all her heart she was to have a good life. She wished there had been somewhere there to reassure and be truthful when she was a younger girl. ‘Everything will be alright, Robin is a good man and very sweet.’ Sansa promised and Winafryd attempted a smile and nodded. ‘And no matter what, it’s not hard to please a man and keep him happy. Just make sure their bodies are settled and their minds are occupied. Then you can run your castle and your family as you see fit.’ Sansa promised and Winafryd blushed and nodded. 

‘I just hope I won’t disappoint my Septa and my family.’ Winafryd whispered and Sansa smiled and patted the girl’s hand. 

‘Try not to disappoint yourself, find pleasure and happiness, respect and love him and it will be alright for most of the part.’ Sansa adviced and the girl smiled and nodded finally. 

‘Your mother told you about pleasure and acting properly around a man, Your Grace?’ Winafryd dared ask, her innocent eyes wondering as Sansa smiled, as innocently as she could as a beautiful woman with a cut low backline dress and the most mirthful eyes, flashed through her memory, in a garden full of roses and sunlight. 

‘Yes, sweet girl, my mother taught me,’ Sansa replied by repeating the lie she had been told a lifetime ago. She smiled at the relief in the girl’s eyes, mirroring what she was sure she had shown to Margery Tyrell herself. ‘But now it’s time for you to take a moment with your own mother and I am supposed to go at the Sept at last.’ Sansa smiled as she stood with effort the moment there was a knock on the door and Winafryd’s mother entered the room and bowed down at Sansa. The Queen inclined her head in reply and turned at the young girl before her. ‘Robin is my cousin, that means you’re family from this day forward. Even if you’re to leave for the Vale, I will always be here for you, sweet Winafryd.’ Sansa promised, wishing both the Vale and White Harbor always by her side. The girl curtsied deeply and thanked the Queen. There were still festivities to take place, the readying of the bride, the songs for the groom. The entire day would be a celebration until dusk, when the wedding would take place. 

  
  


The small Sept of Winterfell hadn’t been damaged by the battle for the Dawn. It had been partially renovated and beautifully decorated for the occasion. It was impossible for everyone to enter so it accommodated only the royal guests from across Westeros, the rest of the noble ladies and lords waited from the door and outside. Jon was there, closest to the Queen who remained beneath the small seven pointed star of the sept.Symbols of the Seven represented them instead of statues and Sansa remained in her beautiful clothes, she looked like the Mother herself as the couple approached slowly, hand in hand as she waited with the ribbons in her hands. 

The Manderlys, Lord Royce and the rest of the Lords and Ladies watched the couple approaching while Jon had eyes only for the Queen in the North, a smile on his face as he watched bathed in candlelight, her own eyes drawn to her. She smiled happily and he returned the smile. She was beautiful and healthy and his and he didn’t care which faith was the right one, he thanked the Seven, the Old Gods, the God of Light and the one of Death for this opportunity, this chance. 

The couple reached the Queen, Robin cloaked Winafryd and Sansa spoke the words, invoking the Seven and tying the knot in their Names. The couple spoke slowly their vows and as the small Sept was filled with their promises, Jon saw the discomfort on Sansa’s eyes as she frowned for only a moment, her hand reaching for her belly like she had done that morning, was that the second time? He felt panic suffocating him but he remained calm among the nobility of Westeros. 

 

_ ‘I am Hers, and She is Mine from this day, until the end of my Days…’ _

 

Sansa put on an icy face, a brave face he could see and exhaled through her nose. Jon searched the place for Fina among the royals but of course she was outside with the common folk.

The wedding ceremony was over and the couple was kissing to everyone’s delight. Soon everyone was moving towards the Keep where food and music were ready to start. Jon could only lead Sansa to her throne as everyone mingled with each other as the feast began. Everyone started eating, celebrating and laughing as the couple danced. Sansa seemed relieved for finally sitting down and Jon hadn’t taken his eyes off her since the ceremony. She was currently grasping at her cup of untouched ale as she was clearly through another wave of discomfort. 

‘I’m finding Fina.’ he whispered in her ear as everyone drank and clapped for the newlywed couple, not paying attention to Jon or Sansa. She grasped his hand as he was ready to stand from his own seat, her food before her untouched, her brow glistening with sweat. 

‘Give me just a little more time and I’ll excuse myself. I’m fine.’ Sansa pleaded with her husband but Jon shook his head, too afraid. 

‘You were in pain during the ceremony, were you in pain during the day too? Apart from this morning?’ Jon asked, his eyes searching for an honest answer. The moment he had it, he was up and alerting some of Sansa’s maids despite her eyes rolling in annoyance. Jon moved slightly away and to Sansa’s utter discomfort, Tyrion approached, all frowned and still semi sober. 

‘Are you alright?’ he asked although he seemed he had wanted to ask something different, something about political games and schemes, maybe. Yet he probably noticed the distress of the Queen. Sansa glanced away, searching for Jon before she could focus back on Tyrion with difficulty, he had been kind to her, he had been decent. He was the Hand of an absent King, while Jon would be the Warden for a confined Queen. With a mixture of relief and worry, she realized her former and current husband were to rule Westeros for the time being. 

She was comfortable for the North but not so sure for the South. The sharp pain in her belly and two sets of hands on her arms however brought her mind back to her current situation, leaving Tyrion wondering over her wellbeing as her full focus returned on her pained body. Fina and Jon were there, dark, Northern eyes looking down at her in worry and a sense of duty as they helped her on her feet. More eyes turned towards them, some drunk, some worried, some willing to help. 

Sansa stood on her feet, causing the High Table occupants to stand too, unnoticed as Sansa focused on Fina’s hands on her belly, a frown etching across the older woman’s brow. 

‘You’ve been in pain?’ Fina demanded and Sansa sighed and nodded. 

‘I thought it was normal, I thought it’s because they are turning huge within me,’ Sansa tried apologetically, no blood, no liquid down her legs, all the signs Fina had explained to be omens for alarm, and above all, not so soon. Fina however shook her head as she looked at the young Queen who was supported by her husband. 

‘The belly is hard, almost rock hard, one of them is dipped low, that’s why the pain and-’ Fina’s words were cut off by the first actual whimper escaping Sansa’s lips, accompanied by a gasp of surprise, water pooled at her feet. Sansa stepped back and saw it, along Jon who looked down in fright, then both of them looked up at Fina who nodded her head, setting herself into something she seemed very comfortable in. 

‘And you’re going in labor, sweet child,’ Fina spoke softly, her voice covered by Sansa’s muffled scream as the strongest so far wave of pain wracked through her body. Her eyes watered as a storm of emotions broke within her, knowing only more was to come.    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the babies are coming!!!! it's happening!!!! it's happening!!!!  
> we focused mostly on Jon and Sansa, only a bit of pol!jon and   
> pol!sansa in it because it was needed for the rest of the story.   
> I was watching some pol!jon scenes and the scene with Sansa and Margery and   
> I couldn't help but mirror the scene with Sansa now as the person without innocence  
> Margery had been so good and sweet to Sansa back then. I miss their friendship.  
> sorry for the lack of Arya, she's coming like a hurricane in the next chap, I hope the next chapter will be made  
> and uploaded the soonest, comments are motivation, thank you for reading!


	30. A Dream of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the babies are here!!!!!!!!!!

_ Chapter 30 - A Dream of Summer _

  
  


_ “The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children; on that front, a mother has no choice.” _

 

Cersei’s words, her ominous eyes sprang in Sansa’s mind as her eyes shut through the pain. Jon’s arms holding her upright as she bowed, whimpering through gritted teeth. The wave left her breathless as she opened her eyes again, Jon was looking down at her in shock, realisation and compassion. Arya was next to her the next moment, wrapping her hands around Sansa’s other arm, pulling her along Jon while Fina was barking orders before them. They were moving, towards the corridor, up to her chambers, she knew. The Great Hall was left in an onslaught of whispers, cheering, voices of worry and declarations of what was to come. 

She was about to become a mother. The seer truth of it shook her to reality, focusing everything on her senses, the pain between her legs, the sweat beneath her clothes, her legs moving on their own, arms held by her family, Fina’s dress flapping around her legs as she kept commanding the frightened maids, ladies in waiting, guards on their post, flickers of images before Sansa’s gaze could fall upon her massive belly. 

She was about to give the biggest fight of her life. She was going to give birth to her children, they were coming into the world.  

‘Oh Gods,’ Sansa whispered, Jon and Arya glanced at her, she could feel their own turmoil, their fear, the anticipation, if everything went smoothly, their lives would go on, if not, everything was about to chance. Everything Sansa struggled to build would have to pass to her husband and sister instead to her two children in years from now. 

They entered the chambers where the maids were already feeding the fire at the fireplace, it was a warm night, Sansa knew but she appreciated the warmth. Hot water was boiling on a pot in the hearth, clean towels and sheets were being brought. Maester Wolkan rushed inside the room too, bringing ointments, herbs and oils. Rosemary was lit on charcoal to purify the air of the room. Fina started talking in hushed whispers with the Maester, Sansa felt the panic rising as she glanced at the bed. 

 

‘Fina?’ Sansa asked urgently and the midwife left the maester for Sansa with a brave smile. ‘It’s too early, isn’t it?’ Sansa asked as Jon and Arya kept holding her while the maids started taking off Sansa’s dress, leaving her in her shift. Fina shook her head with a reassuring smile. 

‘We’re good, twins always come early.’ Fina’s words were soothing, true, Sansa knew but still, she felt her heart pounding in her ears as two guards brought the birthing stool Fina had ordered to be crafted, days ago. ‘I promise you, sweet child, everything will be well, like your Lady Mother, we’ll do this many times over in the future. I swear to you, you will have two beautiful children very soon.’ Fina promised, her voice sweet, motherly, her eyes kind; yet firm. Sansa felt tears filling her own eyes as she finally nodded. Fina smiled, patting Sansa’s cheek before she could harden her posture again and look around like a guard dog. 

‘Everyone who has no reason to be here, get out, keep the wolf pups outside, soldiers, ladies: out. Maids with me, Maester, make a herb tea for the nerves.’ Fina’s orders set everyone in motion before she could turn and look at Arya and Jon, at Sansa’s sides. ‘What about these two wolves, my dear?’ Fina asked as she looked at Sansa. Blue eyes melted in grey as she looked at Jon first, they were to be parents, she wouldn’t have his mother’s fate, Fina would make sure of it. Their children were about to come, Starks like themselves, the robust man and tall woman. 

‘Don’t leave me,’ Sansa whispered, Jon nodded his head with the faintest of smiles, pushing away all the fear, all the worry and the agony. He would be there for her. ‘He can’t leave me,’ Sansa announced to Fina, they had been through this before and Sansa was afraid she’d lose the battle before her midwife. 

‘Your Lord Father had  _ begged  _ me to allow him in the room when your Mother was having you and I refused Lord Stark…’ Fina pointed out sternly, Sansa smiled at the older woman despite the pain she felt approaching again. 

‘Please, Fina… I need him here.’ Sansa’s words were cut short with a gasp as another wave of pain washed through her, putting everyone and everything in perspective. 

‘Oh alright.’ Fina gave in with a frown as she held onto Sansa while the young Queen cried out while Arya and Jon watched mortified. ‘But you and I command everything here. I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child. If he steps the line, he’s out.’ Fina clarified over Sansa’s struggling whimpers as she led her to the bed. It was clear Fina was on her element, and it was clear as day she was happy and ready to deliver the heirs to the Northern Throne. ‘Lay down, dear, let me check on you.’ She instructed as Sansa laid down on the bed. Before she could stare up at the ceiling over her bed, she saw Jon and Arya getting rid of their furs and leather belts with their weapons, setting everything aside to be more comfortable. ‘Take a deep breath, like I’ve taught you.’ Fina’s words caught up with Sansa, she did as instructed, eyes widening as she felt Fina’s hand slipping inside her. The tears ran down to her temples freely as she screwed her eyes shut. The pain was gone before she could cry out and she exhaled the breath almost with a whoosh. Fina pulled her back up on a sitting position, in her view, Jon and Arya were watching, as mortified as before. Sansa looked back at Fina who smiled, cleaning her hand with a towel. 

‘We have awhile more ahead of us, it’s a good thing you had been standing all day. You’ll be pushing before you know it.’ Fina promised and Sansa felt a swept of pride inside her, in all her stupid stubborness to set the kingdom straight, at least she hadn’t wronged her first delivery. 

‘They are safe?’ Sansa asked and Fina smiled. 

‘Shoving each other to see who’s gonna win and come out first.’ Fina joked lightly as she soothed Sansa by rubbing her arm. Sansa smiled, her hands going to her belly. ‘You better focus on your breathing. I don’t want you gasping like a fish or fainting as the pain will increase.’ Fina explained and gestured at Arya who approached hastily. ‘Keep her mind occupied while I fix the towels and tell that silly man over there how to brew the bloody tea, yes?’ Fina asked and Arya nodded mutely, looking at her sister while the midwife went close to the maester.. 

‘You don’t have to be here, if you’re disgusted or-’

‘I’m not disgusted, Sansa,’ Arya promised. 

‘Or afraid,’ Sansa added, trying to spare her sister the trouble. Arya was never the typical girl, dreaming of babies and a family, she never stood more than a minute through mother’s lectures on giving birth and breastfeeding, this was completely strange to Arya and Sansa didn’t want her to endure just for the sake of custom. 

‘I’m not afraid,’ Arya promised. ‘I’m in awe,’ Arya admitted and Sansa finally smiled and nodded. ‘Of you, and what you’re or actually your body is about to do.’ Arya added and Sansa couldn’t help but hug her sister. The gesture was proven good as another wave of pain started, stronger as of yet, Arya clutched at her sister through the convulsing agony while Sansa groaned and finally cried out in pain. ‘I got you,’ Arya whispered again and again while Sansa struggled to breath through it all. Sansa’s eyes locked with Jon’s as he approached, pivoting carefully from Arya’s arms into his, he kissed Sansa’s forehead and nodded his head without a word as he helped Sansa start walking around the room, his arm given for Sansa to hold onto, his other hand on the small of her back. 

Through the waves of anguish, Sansa could feel the time approaching. Fina checked again and again and Sansa noticed the full moon moving across the night sky. She was drenched in sweat, her head throbbing her legs growing heavier with each step around the room, pausing every few minutes to get through the wave of pain. Jon tried to rub her back, massage her shoulders, whispering soothing words of comfort but soon all Sansa could do was scream through pain she hadn’t experienced before. Through Joffrey and even Ramsay, they were nothing compared to what she was being through to bring her children into the world. Fina finally helped her to the birthing chair, opening her legs and checking as she sat herself on a low bench and Jon sat on a chair behind Sansa, his body supporting Sansa as she nestled against him,her arms on his thighs, her hands clasped with his. Arya was by her side, on her knees, holding one leg open while one of the maids held the other. Sansa was panting as the pain seemed to be continuous, her breaded hair felt heavy on her back, trapped between hers and Jon’s body, droplets of sweat to her brow. 

‘Open the fucking window.’ Sansa gasped the command and a young maid rushed to do as commanded after Fina herself nodded her head, her hand moving between Sansa’s legs. The young Queen howled in pain as Fina closed her eyes to feel inside before she could withdraw. 

‘No breech baby, the head is there, you’re ready.’ Fina finally announced and Sansa nodded frantically as she felt her entire body pulsing in pain, her belly the source of it all. ‘When the pain magnifies again you’ll-’ Fina stopped talking as Sansa started pushing with all her might, her body trembling in effort as Arya and the maid held on to Sansa’s legs while Jon held Sansa by the shoulders. She screamed in effort, before she could let go for a moment. Sansa would swear she heard Fina murmuring a prayer to the Mother. 

A Mother she was about to become herself, Sansa thought in panic, this was her battle. The Father was there, with her, supporting her. She pushed again, harder as the pain increased. The Maiden, by her side, not innocent, but pure and beautiful and young, Arya smiled encouragingly as Sansa pushed harder. The Crone, she was right before her, experienced eyes watching for signs of alarm, warm hands ready to guide the baby out, Fina was smiling. Sansa kept pushing. A Warrior, a girl or a boy, her child would be a warrior like Arya, or Jon. She pushed harder, eyes shutting, teeth sinking into her lower lip, drawing blood. She was the Smith herself, crafting perfection through her body, a body that had been through so much yet it felt ready for more. 

‘The head is out! A final push, sweetheart!’ Fina called out, her hands fumbling between Sansa’s legs as she took a deep breath and pushed again, head thrown back against Jon’s shoulder, screaming in agony as she felt her body pushing her child out. The Stranger, people prayed to him rarely, Sansa could only pray he wouldn’t come tonight, not for her, not for her children, not for anyone. 

‘Why it’s not crying,’ Sansa gasped as she felt her body abruptly empty, the pain ceasing, blood running down on the floor. Fina was still fumbling and for a few agonizing moments in silence, Sansa believed the child was born dead. Fina held the tiny body, wiped and cleaned hastily with a towel, wrapped in a piece of fabric and set against Sansa who was only shocked to wrap her hands around the warm baby, her baby. Eyes still shut, a shock of whitish purple skin, the first loud cry came through a small choke and Sansa could only sob as her child started crying loudly in her arms, Jon’s chin was on Sansa’s shoulder as the parents were left speechless to gaze at the little one. 

‘A strong daughter, beautiful like her mother,’ Fina’s words had the couple beam down at the baby. Another Queen in the North, a summerborn child of promise. 

‘Aryanna Stark,’ Jon gave the name to the child Sansa had given life to. Arya’s eyes widened at the sound of it, looking at her siblings as she’d always consider Jon her brother, no matter what. ‘After you, and my Mother.’ he added with a smile but his eyes moved only for a moment to the smiling Arya before his gaze could be drawn back to his baby daughter. He wasn’t sure he would be able to take his eyes off the child ever again. 

‘Thank you,’ Arya whispered as she caressed Sansa’s knee who was exhausted but smiling, beaming at the little one as Maester Wolkan approached with a smile on his own face. 

‘Sansa, dear, give her to Wolkan when you’re ready. We have one more baby to deliver, right?’ Fina tried to bring everyone back to the rest of the task. Sansa nodded, glanced at Jon who nodded and kissed her sweaty forehead once more and finally, gave their daughter reluctantly to Maester Wolkan who took the baby carefully in his arms to examine and take care of it. 

‘You’re doing great, sweet love,’ Jon whispered in Sansa’s ear as he nuzzled his nose to her cheek, her head set back, eyes closed in joy, relief, she was halfway there and she was still alive, she was doing great indeed. 

Sansa noticed the sky was turning lighter in the horizon, the night was passing. Soon the summer sun would be breaking over the mountains surrounding Winterfell. 

‘How long until the next one?’ Sansa asked, her voice rough after all the screaming as Fina examined Sansa carefully. 

‘There’s a little bleeding,’ Fina informed, setting everyone on alert. ‘Nothing major, the next pain will be starting soon. When it comes, I need you to push as hard as you did with Aryanna, then I will make sure the bleeding stops, after we’re done, we’ll start all the cleaning process and you will walk so everything can go back in place inside your body. You won’t lay down like a Southern idiot until you rot on your bed. We Northerners keep going, you’ve done great so far, Sansa, dear.’ Fina was instructing as she was cleaning Sansa’s legs, her own hands and was putting more towels on the space between herself and Sansa. ‘I promised you, your wife will survive this.’ Fina addressed Jon who could only nod his head, relieved of Fina keeping her promise. ‘And you’ve done great yourself, I must admit. I expected you to faint by the time the head was out.’ the older woman admitted and this time Jon smiled, he had seen battles, of living and dead, he had been through death himself but he had to admit, watching Sansa giving birth,, holding her and feeling her entire body reacting, bringing their child into the world was probably the most shocking, amazing and terrifying thing he had witnessed. 

‘And you didn’t flee…’ Fina looked at Arya who had remained muted through the entire process. ‘Who knows after all, maybe I will be needed in the Stormlands before I know it…’ she added with a teasing tone only a mother would have used to Queens and Princesses. Arya blushed fiercely and shook her head as Sansa chuckled, both sisters shaking their heads. 

‘That’s not happening any time soon, Fina,’ the Stark women said at the same time and laughed quietly before Sansa could frown as a pang of pain started anew low in her belly.  

Sansa was soon pushing through gritted teeth while Aryanna was crying in her corner, as if calling out to her sibling. Jon held on to Sansa’s hands and she clutched at their grasp, screaming and writhing on the chair as she pushed harder than ever before. Her second child smoothing out of her body in one go, screaming and kicking, making Fina’s work of cutting the cord a struggle. Fina chuckled as she cleaned the screaming face quickly and placed the baby without a fabric wrapped around it in the awaiting arms of Sansa who had the chance to glimpse at the baby’s front, a soft smile gracing her panting lips. 

‘Robb,’ Sansa cooed the name as her son was set against her, her arms wrapping around him, trying to sooth his screaming. Aryanna’s crying seemed to increase too at the commotion and Maester Wolkan approached with the baby girl in his arms, approaching Jon who reached for her with trembling hands. He shifted slightly, his wife between his legs, their son in her arms while he held Aryanna for the first time in his. The babies were screaming loudly in their parents’ arms but Jon and Sansa looked at each other deeply in the eyes, the crying was the most beautiful music in the world, the most beautiful sight before them. 

‘I love you,’ Jon whispered, heard only by Sansa as their lips touched in the sweetest of kisses. ‘All three of you,’ he added with a smile she returned. 

‘I love you too.’ Sansa whispered back before Fina could start ordering them around. Robb needed to be cleaned, Aryanna was taken by Arya, the younger Stark was at a loss of words as she held the child named after her, her eyes drifting between the baby girl and the baby boy named by her eldest brother. Fina nodded at one of the maids who beamed and rushed outside the room. Before Sansa could be pulled on her feet and cleaned, the bells were ringing outside, and they would ring from dawn till dusk, just like they had for herself, when she was born.

Fina was asking how she felt, the pain was gone, the bleeding had stopped, she was soon cleaned with wet clothes, herbs were rubbed against her skin. The summer breeze from the window helped her finally relax, she was exhausted, yet her watering eyes couldn’t leave the two bundles Maester Wolkan was hovering over, measuring, checking. She pushed Jon towards them while Fina took care of her and led her around the bed for a small stroll before she could allow her to actually sit and then settle in it, all the while checking for some sudden bleeding. 

‘Thank you,’ Sansa whispered to Fina who was adjusting the covers over her body, preparing pillows around her. Fina smiled sweetly at the young Queen. 

‘My pleasure, Your Grace,’ the older woman whispered back, for the first time addressing Sansa with a title instead an endearment, now that her main work was over, Fina was ready to be a commoner again at the Queen’s service, instead of the woman who had just helped Sansa bring two children into the world. 

‘Don’t leave, you have so many things to help me with.’ Sansa finally tore her eyes from her babies to look at the older woman who smiled and patted Sansa’s shoulder. 

‘I’m not going anywhere until you feel ready. I stood by your Lady Mother until Robb was old enough and before we knew it, she was having you.’ Fina whispered back but Sansa had no time to respond her gratitude as Jon and Arya approached the bed with one baby each in their arms. Fina moved a step away for the young Starks -all of them- to take a moment to adjust the babies close to Sansa. ‘Feed Aryanna first, she must be the hungriest.’ Fina offered gently and Arya was the one to make a step back, giving Sansa space as she bared one breast and brought Aryanna close. Fina helped her to maneuver the baby until it launched on her mother’s nipple, sucking for dear life, eyes closing. Sansa held her daughter with one arm, amazed at how easy, natural, normal her daughter felt against her, sucking her first meal against the scarred breast of her mother. On the other arm, Jon helped Sansa balance Robb who was cooing silently, still adjusting in the light and sounds of the world. 

Aryanna was soon done with her food and Fina brought her to Jon, showing him how to make the newborn burp. Jon did his best, frightened he would drop or harm her. Fina helped Robb on the other breast, he was even easier than his sister, all the screaming and kicking forgotten as he drank his own milk with eyes closed, baby fists on his mother’s warm skin. Sansa and Jon shared a smile at the sight of each other with one baby each. Fina remained silent close by, ready to help again while Arya watched mesmerized at what her sister and brother had done for their family and the North. 

The flapping of wings had them all turning towards the opened window, a raven had just flown on the marble, crying out softly, its three eyes looking curiously inside as dawn broke behind it. The three Starks looked at each other worryingly. Arya approached silently and nodded at Jon who handed Aryanna to her. He bowed over Sansa and kissed her forehead as she remained still for her son to finish his meal. 

‘I’ll be right back.’ Jon promised and Sansa nodded, worried oceans of blue watching him as he reached the door of the chambers and opened it. The Queensguard was there, on their spots until the end of the corridor no one passed so Jon moved towards the end of it, unsurprised when he saw Tyrion and Davos there, waiting. 

‘Is Sansa…?’ Tyrion was ready to ask but Jon cut him off. 

‘She’s fine, what’s wrong with Bran? A Raven just reached us.’ Jon was quick, he was missing moments from his family, his children, all due to political schemes of the South. 

‘Same raven delivered this, from Brienne.’ Tyrion explained and showed Jon a small piece of parchment. 

_ The King is not responsive anymore. The people demand of a leader. They do not wish for another fruitless -as they call it- Council. They demand a new King. There are fears of a riot brewing.  _

‘You need to come to King’s Landing.’ Tyrion’s words were soft, attempting reason. Jon tore his eyes from the letter to look at the dwarf.  ‘For the Council or the Coronation, it does not matter, but you must come before more blood is spilt on the streets…’ Tyrion added, Jon frowned at the words, more failing politics. ‘Bran’s in danger in his condition.’ the words made Jon furious. ‘But you….you proved your worth, you already have heirs and Sansa-’ at the sound of his wife’s name, Jon snapped. 

‘One more word,’ Jon warned, Tyrion paused. ‘One more scheming word.’ Jon added but this time Davos tried, he once was so close to Jon, all before political games and genocide forced them apart. 

‘My dear friend,’ Davos tried as Jon looked wildly at him, could he be trusted? After so long, after all that had been. ‘The South looks upon the North, for support. Every Lord and Lady are already here, the kingdoms united thanks to your wife’s careful planning, and Bran allowed her for a reason.... She’s able, valuable, the Key not only to the North, as she always was, but to the South too, married to you… the mother of your children...’ Davos tried, gentler, fatherly. ‘It is time,’ Davos pushed further, Jon sighed as he looked at the brick wall of the corridor, his heart racing, not so soon, not so fast. Not while Sansa had just delivered their children. Their children, so small, young, he had to protect them and their mother and the North. 

‘You have to be there, for Bran’s sake, for Sansa’s safety, for your children’s future.’ Tyrion tried again, failing to persuade Jon. ‘You have to be there as Aegon Targaryen.’ he concluded, Jon shut his eyes, shaking his head. 

‘I’m Jon Stark,’ Jon demanded, knowing he was failing the words he had spoken. ‘And my children have just been born,  _ Starks _ , like their mother, like me.’ he added, more confident on that truth, the truth no one would sway from him. His bloody paternal dynasty would die with him when he drew his last breath. The Starks would prevail. 

It was all becoming real, the nights he had spent with Sansa, planning, the times they had struggled to accept their children would be dragonwolves. The fact of the people wanting Jon as their King, Sansa as their Queen. The distance they had to minimize over two separate realms. The independence of the North that they would never compromise as the North had always been their priority. The Dragons in the east and the power they were having over all armies combined, the destruction they could lay if used inappropriately again. All the battles and sacrifices, all the planning and political game they had laid out for themselves. The game of thrones was towards its end and Jon knew, he and Sansa were a breath away from winning it, no matter how frightening the price appeared to be.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I have made this chap for a couple of days now but I have a fever and I couldn't possibly focus on the screen to edit and post it, I hope you all liked it, I wanted Sansa to give birth while counting the seven gods, it was an idea I had for a long time now, i haven't given birth myself so I hope it wasn't a stupid scene for the mothers who might be reading this.  
> bran is off and we're closer than ever to the descend in the South, I hope you liked the chapter! comments are love!


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